


Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods I (Book 1: Beerus)

by Chronos_X



Series: Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods I (2019-) [2]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Absolution, Abusive Father, Abusive Parents, Acceptance, Adorkable, Ancient Evil, Anger, Angst, Atonement - Freeform, Badass Family, Betrayal, Borderline Personality Disorder, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Consolation, Coping, Daddy Issues, Depression, Dishonor, Empathy, Existence, Existentialism, F/M, Family Secrets, Fear, Forgiveness, Genocide, God Turned Mortal, Grief, Growth, Guilt, Hate, Hatred, Healing, Honor, Horny Teenagers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intergenerational conflict, Love, M/M, Maturation, Mommy Issues, Multi, Murder, Negligence, Other, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Realization, Redemption, Regret, Remorse, Responsibility, Salvation, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Selfishness, Shame, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Sins of the Past, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Took a Level in Kindness, Troubled Past, ancient gods, anger issues, coming to terms, emotion, evil gods, learning, making amends, past mistakes, relationship, resolve, self-forgiveness, selflessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 92,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronos_X/pseuds/Chronos_X
Summary: As an ancient evil stirs from its slumber, God of Destruction Beerus finds himself confronted by Grand Zen-Oh, stripped of his godhood, powers and skills, and exiled to Universe 7's Earth for life.  The former Hakaishin must turn to Son Goku and the Z-Fighters not only to regain his fighting abilities, but also to learn how to be mortal all over again.Confronted with his troubled past and the atrocities he committed as a Destroyer, Beerus must overcome guilt, shame, fear and self-loathing if he is to make peace with his twin brother Champa, stand up to their abusive father, come to terms with their traumatic family history, face one among the countless children he has sired throughout the eons, save his fellow Destroyers, and help defeat a group of rogue deities more powerful than any Hakaishin.  Can Goku, his friends, and three prototype android ex-assassins help Beerus and the Multiverse through their darkest hour?This fic occurs simultaneously with Twilight of Gods I, Books 2, 3, 4 and 5.
Relationships: Beerus (Dragon Ball)/Original Character(s), Champa (Dragon Ball)/Original Character(s), Quitela (Dragon Ball) & Original Character(s), Rumush (Dragon Ball)/Original Character(s), Sidra (Dragon Ball)/Original Character(s)
Series: Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods I (2019-) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1466320
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Subject B

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, all characters, stories, plot elements and related aspects belong to me. All migrant OCs, designs and backstories belong to their respective creators. Used with permission. 
> 
> Negroni belongs to lssj2 (www.deviantart.com/lssj2)
> 
> Lord Mate belongs to Mate397 (www.deviantart.com/mate397)
> 
> Android 21/Good Boi Cell, Good Guy Raditz, Good Guy Nappa, Ranch, Daikon, Mooli, and all related characters/events/story arcs belong to  
Masako-kun (www.deviantart.com/masako-kun)
> 
> Special redesigns for Beerus, Jiren et al. belong to Geofffffff (www.deviantart.com/geofffffff)
> 
> Yabrel, Richi, Osore, backstories/post-ToP designs for Shosa, Majora, and Trio of Danger belong to 6SpiritKings (www.deviantart.com/6spiritkings / www.furaffinity.net/user/6spiritking)
> 
> Anise, Fennel, Cumin and other OCs belong to Chronos-X, AKA Yours Truly (www.deviantart.com/chronos-x)
> 
> Rated Teen and up. Deals with depression, child abuse, trauma, suicide, torture, rape (physical and psychological) and other prickly subjects relevant to the plot. Expect plenty of curse words of varying gravity, certainly lots of fighting and violence (it's Dragon Ball, after all). Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> (Note: Will post a TRIGGER WARNING at the start of certain chapters).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God of Destruction Beerus' world comes crashing down after a visit from the Omni-King himself. Will Beerus survive his first day as a mortal? Is there a point to these happenings? Stay tuned!

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 1: Subject B

God of Destruction Beerus had never been the most diligent deity, yet the Hakaishin assigned to Universe 7 never admitted as much. While it certainly wouldn’t do if mortals got the wrong idea about his job or how he went about doing it, Lord Beerus really didn’t have much to worry about. His position as a Destroyer had become a sinecure over millennia, one he was sure to retain if he played his cards right, particularly when it came to Grand Zen-Oh, the Grand Priest, and their watchdogs. Long as a certain dimwitted Saiyan from Earth didn’t attract the wrong kind of attention <strike>(which is to say, any)</strike>, everything should be just peachy...

So what if Beerus spent veritable centuries sleeping? He more than made up for lost time cruising around U7’s galaxies, purging them of petty tyrants, murderers, adulterers, liars, cheaters, thieves, lousy cooks and countless other undesirables… well, at least they _were_ countless before he got his hands on them. However, the Hakaishin wasn’t entirelyheartless, as he believed in giving second chances and conducting himself with fairness and integrity. There really was no better way to practice what he preached than by <strike>coercing persuading forcing</strike> compelling mortals to run his gauntlet. 

It was a simple bargain, really. Beerus and his Angel Guide Whis would sample the finest dishes of each planet, appetizers, main courses, desserts, drinks, the works. If the food was good, the Destroyer would let the planet and its inhabitants off the hook for another couple of eons. However, if it was bad, it’d get Hakai’d, obliterated in body and soul along with every single living being it contained. The latter also applied when said beings dared disrespect Beerus or Whis, or if their overall behavior irked the Hakaishin enough to warrant such exertion. Just ask those warthog people who not only tried to poison him, but also dared to serve him greasy food, to top it all off. The unmitigated nerve! Even so, Lord Beerus was not without mercy, seeing how he only destroyed _half _of their planet…

Apparently this way of doing things didn’t sit well with the Omni-King, as indicated by Universe 7’s perilously low mortal level, barely above Beerus’ twin brother Champa’s Universe 6, and that overgrown lima bean Sidra’s Universe 9. The Tournament of Power proved a rude awakening for the feline deity; he’d been found wanting as a Destroyer and thus subject to erasure, all because of Son Goku! No… Frieza was to blame. It seemed Beerus had been less than crystal clear as to what that damned Icejin could and couldn’t do as his Agent of Destruction. What’s the Universe coming to, when you can’t rely on stinking mortals to do your job even under threat of utter annihilation? 

Good thing Goku and company, Frieza included, proved their mettle by winning the blasted Tournament. They were even kind enough to wish all deleted Universes back into existence with the Super Dragon Balls, a gesture that increased U7’s mortal level and overall good standing with the King of All. The fact that His Eminence inexplicably befriended Goku of all people was also a plus. Anyhow, Beerus got the message: shape up or ship out. 

A year and a half later, Beerus the Destroyer lounged in his temple, licking his forearm as his attendant almost had lunch ready. 

“Whis! Whis, hurry up! I’m starving!”

(_Whis calls from the nearby kitchen_). “Almost done, Lord Beerus. Good heavens, this risotto is to die for!”

“Easy on the wasabi this time, will you? I don’t want a repeat of last week’s incident.”

“Well, I _did _warn you about it. You certainly didn’t object when Goku’s friend made those _hors d'oeuvres_ a year ago.”

“Goku’s friend? Which one?”

“The short bald one with the spots on his forehead.”

“Ah, you mean Krillin. Good cook in the making, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ve been alive for over a hundred eons, my Lord. You’ll forgive me if I prove difficult to impress… or just plain difficult.”

“Whatever. Hurry up, will ya?”

Beerus reclined on his seat and shut his eyes. He had it made. Sure, there was Champa and his petty contests, but so what? It would be ages before the Destroyer from U7 would need to choose a successor. Plus, he could always swing down to Earth and sample its cuisine whenever he felt peckish. That Bulma woman would move Heaven and Hell to keep him happy. How couldn’t she, knowing full well the consequences of failing to do so? 

So much the better. It’d be too much of a waste to destroy such a beautiful planet, the home of Son Goku and Prince Vegeta IV, a pair of Saiyans who were among the greatest warriors Beerus had met in over a thousand lifetimes. Like most beings, those two didn’t take kindly to having their home planet horribly purged from existence. Leave it to mortals to get attached to ephemeral things! Far as the Destroyer was concerned, however, it didn’t get any better than this. That damn hunger, though. He would’ve gladly traded Champa for a bag of pork-rinds right about now.

Licking his forearm with distracted bliss, the feline deity blinked, shut his eyes and opened them; business as usual. The creatures in the nearby aquarium swam; the big fish ate the small ones, otherwise remained blissfully absorbed by whatever went on in their watery world. Beerus made a mental note to ask the Oracle Fish about this topic. He’d meant to do so, but who doesn’t get a little absentminded after so many eons? The Destroyer blinked again There they were, still swimming. A third time. Nothing out of place. Fourth time. Grand Zen-Oh and company. Fifth ti—wait, what!? 

Beerus fell out of his chair, caught in a compromising position by the sudden appearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dreaded One, accompanied by a rather confused Grand Priest and the usual two guards. The Hakaishin awkwardly scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own tail to properly bow before the <strike>irritating git</strike> All-Universal Benefactor.

“G-G-Grand Zen-Oh! S-Sir! T-T-To w-what d-d-d-do we o-owe s-such…”

_(Zen-Oh scowls_). “Quiet! Stand and face me, Lord Beerus.”

Beerus’ body all but acted on its own accord. Ultra Instinct at its finest, indeed. Whis would’ve been so proud. Speaking of which, the Angel emerged from the nearby kitchen, casually tossed aside his frilly apron as Beerus sweated nervously.

“O-Oh, Grand Zen-Oh! Now _this _is an unexpected pleasure.”

“[_Why the fuck’re you so calm!? Did all that hair gel seep into your angelic brain!?_][1].” 

(_Zen-Oh cordially waves_). “You’re here, too, Attendant Whis.” (_Turns to Beerus_). “Where’s Son Goku?” 

(_Beerus bows obsessively_). “H-He left two days ago, S-Supreme L-Leader! L-Let me g-greet y-you w-with all our p-p-pleases and our thank-yous and…!”

“Zip it!” (_Zen-Oh crosses his arms behind his back_). “God of Destruction Lord Beerus XXVII, son of Tusker, of House Artois, do you know why we’re here?”

“N-No, S-Sir, I-I…”

(_Zen-Oh stares sourly_). “Gods damn it, quit sniveling already! Would it kill you to address me like the mature, responsible adult you’re supposed to be at least _once_ in your stinking life!? Seriously, you and that brother of yours are pathetic!”

(_A concerned Grand Priest steps forward_). “Sir, please. There’s no need for...”

“Don’t presume to lecture me, Father of Angels.”

(_Bewildered Whis is bewildered_). “[_Something is amiss here. This wasn’t part of the…_]. Grand Zen-Oh, if I may, why do you speak so harshly to Lord Beerus? Have we displeased you?”

(_Zen-Oh dramatically points at Beerus_). “_He_ displeases me!” (_Beerus yelps like a frightened puppy_). “For over two-million years you have neglected your duties, wasted your days sleeping, stuffing your face and bullying innocent beings, when you should have been destroying useless planets and making sure the knowledge of the gods was not misused!”

“B-But I…”

“You allowed Frieza and his forces to slaughter billions because you were too lazy to do your own job and he wanted to buy and sell planets! You snored while the Universe under your care was under constant threat and the balance we work so hard to maintain unraveled! Universe 7 would be ashes by now if not for Goku and his friends!” 

The Omni-King signaled one of his attendants, who then gave him a glass of water, from which he drank, then returned it with a brief "thank you."

“Are you really this stupid? Did you honestly believe we didn’t have a clue?”

“W-Well, I-I...”

“Y’know, I tried to be patient and understanding, for Afsnath’s and Tusker’s sake. I came so close to erasing you so many times, yet I allowed Whis to talk me out of it. Even the Grand Priest intervened on your behalf more times than I care to count… until now.”

Beerus groveled like he’d never groveled before, frantically grabbed the robe of the King of All. Zen-Oh calmly floated away, ominously leering at the Destroyer from Universe 7, readying for his next move.

“P-P-Please, Your Eminence! I’ve changed! R-Really, I have! I-I’m doing my job now!”

“If it serves as any consolation, I’m no longer angry with you. I’m not even disappointed.” (_Beerus’ eyes light up with hope_). “You’re not worth my time. Not anymore.”

“P-Please don’t erase me!”

(_Zen-Oh scoffs_). “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not about to squander precious time and energy on an over-indulged, self-important bean pole who should’ve been sacked long before my friend Goku learned to spell his name (which he still hasn’t, by the way, but that’s beside the point). Taking your life would prove an even bigger waste, so I’ll do _this_ instead…”

Whis, Grand Priest and the attendants vacated the area, ignoring Beerus’ silent pleas for them to stay. Afterward, the Omni-King cleared his throat, let the Hakaishin have it as the manor and nearby solar systems trembled. <strike>Beerus may or may not have had a couple thousand accidents in his pants in the meantime</strike>.

“GOD OF DESTRUCTION BEERUS, FOR YOUR CRIMES OF HUBRIS, MALFEASANCE IN OFFICE, TAKING BRIBES, NEGLIGENCE, LAZINESS, EXTORTION, HARASSMENT OF MORTALS, BEING RUDE TO WAITERS, A JERKASS TO CHEFS, A BOOT-LICKING TOADY, AND WEARING BLUE AFTER GROUNDHOG DAY, I HEREBY JUDGE YOU AND FIND YOU… GUILTY! 

MY SENTENCE SHALL BE AS FOLLOWS: HENCEFORTH, YOU ARE STRIPPED OF YOUR TITLE, DIVINITY, AND ALL ATTENDANT RIGHTS AND DUTIES! YOUR GODLY POWER SHALL SLUMBER IN THE REALMS BEYOND UNTIL YOUR SUCCESSOR IS APPOINTED! AFTERWARDS, YOU SHALL BE REMITTED TO PLANET EARTH OF THE SEVENTH UNIVERSE, WHERE YOU WILL REMAIN IN EXILE FOR THE REMAINDER OF YOUR NATURAL LIFE AND BEYOND! I, ZEN-OH ALL-SOVEREIGN, HAVE SPOKEN!”

At that moment, a sphere of silvery energy emanated from the Omni-King’s hands and engulfed Beerus. Trapped within a searing whirlwind, the deity thrashed and spun as every bit of God ki and Energy of Destruction was ripped from his body. All strength left Beerus as his very frame grew feeble, his limbs throbbing as if on the verge of being ripped apart. Every organ, every atom groaned in thrall to an unseen force, like something was tearing them into a trillion pieces and sloppily putting them back together in a matter of microseconds. At long last, his screams drowned out by the tempest, the re-purposed energies settled atop Zen-Oh’s hand in the form of an orb, erupted into a column and departed to parts unknown as the tornado died down, dropped Beerus on his knees, and Zen-Oh looked on with grim solemnity. 

“It is finished. Your undeification is complete, Okocim Lech-Sa[2].” (_Flashes a shameless grin_). “Tell me. How do you feel… mortal?”

Groaning, aching all over, Beerus realized he could no longer sense Whis’ ki, let alone his own. His bones felt like they had the marrow drained out of them. His flesh growing cold, fear gave way to despondency and shame, the world as he saw it fading from a near-endless gamut of colors to monotone shades of grey, black and white. For the first time in eons, Beerus the Destroyer felt utterly helpless.

“You’re still awake. And here I thought I had you all figured out…”

“W-W…?”

(_Zen-Oh cups his ears_). “[_Damn feline just **has** to have the last word, doesn’t he? Takes after his old man, after all…_]. Excuse me? Did you say something?”

“W-W-Why…?”

(_Zen-Oh nearly facepalms_). “You can’t be serious! Are you deaf, or just soft in the head, son of Tusker!?”

(_Beerus tremulously gets up, collapses upon his knees_). “Please, Sir… I-I’m sorry…”

“Well, I’m not. Also, I’d stay put if I were you. That body of yours will be indisposed for a couple of days, maybe more.”

“Please… e-erase m-me… k-kill me… t-t-torture me for eternity… not this… n-not like this…”

(_Zen-Oh turns away_). “You have a lot of nerve, blood of Artois. To think your mother and father were among the strongest Sphygians[3] in the history of Universes 2 and 11, as well as among the best Destroyers in the history of Universes 6 and 7… and then youtwo came along. Well, I didwarn Tusker about that… _thing_.” (_Chuckles like an amused child_). “I’ll ask your daddy next time I see him… or maybe your brother knows?”

(_Beerus almost gasps_). “Ch-Champa? Y-You’re not g-going to…?”

(_Stern Zen-Oh is stern_). “You do realize I don’t have to answer your questions, do you, mortal? Just be happy I decided not to bring Tusker along.” (_Realizes something_). “Oh, almost forgot…”

Zen-Oh turned towards the Sphygian and snapped his fingers: the former Destroyer’s neck stole, waist sash, the golden stud on his ear, the bands around his ankles, neck, arms, and wrists detached, transformed into pure energy and forsook their owner, entering an open pouch Zen-Oh produced out of nowhere. Beerus broke down and sobbed afterwards. The King of All made as if to speak, but held his tongue, his smile briefly ebbing into a here-today-gone-tomorrow frown as he shook his head at the trembling feline, then grabbed his countenance, his own face brandishing a sickening grin.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, kitty-cat? Don’t worry your Fancy Feast-loving little head: you’ll have plenty of time to lick your wounds where _you’re _going…”

Snapping his fingers, Zen-Oh opened a large wormhole that swallowed chairs, vases, paintings, anything that wasn’t bolted down. Unable to rouse his slumbering legs, Beerus screamed for Whis; the Sphygian futilely sank his claws deep into the stone floor, scratching it as the portal swallowed him and closed in his wake. 

The Omni-King stared at his handiwork. The dining room looked as it had so many times after barely surviving yet another tirade from whatever descendant of House Artois happened to be in office. Stealing a glance at the ex-Destroyer’s parting gift on the floor, the Supreme Deity sighed, produced some sort of chart, and scribbled something.

“One down, four to go. You guys can come out now.”

Whis and company returned to the room. The Attendant nearly screamed; the table had been destroyed, the aquarium laid in shambles as fish, sea serpents and sundry creatures flopped all over the place, gasping their last breaths. Luckily, they found reprieve when the Guide Angel of Universe 7 mercifully rewound time and undid the damage. Nevertheless, Beerus was nowhere to be seen when the Grand Priest approached the King of All.

(_Grand Priest sighs_). “Your Eminence… while I wholeheartedly agree with your decision to remove Lord Beerus, I believe you were exceedingly harsh in doing so.”

(_Zen-Oh gives Grand Priest an angry look_). “You can’t be serious! What that bottomless litter box has done to this Universe, _that’s_ exceedingly harsh. Need I remind you it _barely_ ranked above freaking Universe 9? [_Note to self: apologize to Subject S when we get to him_]. Don’t even get me started on Universe 6 and that hunk of lard we entrusted it to! Serves us right, y’know, letting those stinking cats run amok for eons; ‘bout damn fucking time we put our foot down!”

(_Deadpan Whis is deadpan_). “I must agree with the Grand Priest, Your Eminence. As unpleasant as Lord B—I-I mean, Okocim Lech-Sa could be, he still did his job. [_Every now and then..._].”

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we have a rat to catch. Come along, Whis.”

With that, the group departed Universe 7 in a column of light…

_Meanwhile…_

Beerus fell, stumbled, dashed, crashed, spun and turned within a tunnel of energy, his screams accompanying long forgotten voices that stopped after an abrupt but otherwise harmless landing. Numb and exhausted, the Sphygian motioned to rise, then caved under his legs and collapsed atop a puddle of dirty water. 

“[_Is this Earth? What time is it? What’s… going on…?_].”

_One hour later_…

Beerus finally woke up. Thank Supreme Kai, at last his body was his to command. The groaning Sphygian cleared somnolence from his eyes as what began as a drizzle gradually shifted into copious rain set to thunder and lightning. The downpour felt like knives sinking into his body, now quivering under a long-forgotten sensation: cold. Beerus the Destroyer winced, gave his shallow breathing enough time to recover as the melting drops prayed a despairing litany deep into his half-slumbering, half-waking marrow.

“Ow… Whis? Whis! I know you’re there. Quit screwin’ around and come ‘ere already! Whis! Didn’t you hear me? Whis!”

“Who’s Whis? You high or something, man?”

Beerus shambled to his feet, nearly collapsed anew after coming face-to-face with a thickly built, dark-skinned human exuding rum-stained sweat. The Destroyer didn’t know what upset him most: such impudence from a mortal, and a foul-smelling one at that! 

“M-MAN!? Who do you think you’re talking to!?”

“Another piece of shit who’s down on his luck.”

“Who’re you calling “shit,” you hairless ape!?” (_Outstretches his arm; “Beerus’ Madness” plays in the background_). “Hakai.” (_Nothing happens. Record scratch. Music screeches to an anticlimactic halt_). “Hakai?” (_Still nothing_). “Hakai!” (_Nothing still_). “HAKAI!”

“Huh? The hell’s “Hakai”?”

(_Beerus glowers_). “No matter. Here’s a little something to remember me by, mortal!”

One scratch at some nobody’s face; that’s all it took for Beerus’ world to unravel as his reflexes betrayed him. The roaring human slammed into the feline, punched, kicked, screamed, called him every foul epithet in his vocabulary <strike>(all two of ‘em)</strike>, pounded his face and ribcage into a bloody mess of cuts, bruises and hematomas. Finally, after what seemed like forever and a day, the bum picked himself up and spat upon the fallen deity. 

“There, kitty-cat. Lil’ somethin’ to remember _me_ by…”

Drifting back and forth from unconsciousness, Beerus barely heard a zipper being undone. Shortly after, a stream of rancid-smelling liquid splashed all over his countenance, followed by three or four more kicks to his ribcage, then silence…

_Later, at night…_

Beerus’ eyes adapted to near-darkness. The feline spent most of the day fading back and forth from the world of the living, unable to make up his mind whether he’d pass on to Other World or not. Every fiber of him roared at the Sphygian to get up, yet simultaneously lulled him into stasis as pain and fatigue whispered sweet nothings into his ears and his bones felt like molasses. Also, why were his legs so cold? After a bit of struggling, the cat man sat up and almost gasped: he was barefoot!

“M-My s-shoes! S-Son of a… h-he… he actually…” 

At the mercy of the elements, Beerus picked himself up, fell, rose, dropped, finally got back up long enough to drag himself out of that alley. What a time for Whis to be gods know where doing gods know what. What a way for a Destroyer to go, too. Champa would laugh himself to an early grave when the news reached him. Hell, _he_’d probably laugh too. The greatest mistake of your life, buried, wiped out in every sense of the word by some random loser blissfully unaware of the service he’d just done to the Multiverse? Best news he’d get in eons. 

(_Beerus slaps himself hard_). “A-Alright, n-no more screwin’ around. Concentrate and…” (_Drumroll, please_). “FLY!” (_Jumps. Rimshot, please. <strike>Use with discretion</strike>. Nothing happens. Beerus jumps one more time_). “FLY!” (_Still nothing. Another jump_). “FLY, GODS DAMMIT, FLY!”

Surely something else must work! Powering up? No. Channeling ki? Nope. Jumping tall buildings in a single bound? Hell no! Running faster than a locomotive? Yeah, right…

It all came back to Beerus: Zen-Oh’s judgement, his body burning with pain as his God ki and Destroyer powers forsook him, the shaking and shivering, Whis abandoning him to his fate. His divinity, every single skill and ability he’d relied upon for eons, all completely stripped away, leaving him as the weak, defenseless mortal he started out as. Evicted from his planet without a moment’s notice, the shivering ex-deity had nothing, save for a pair of piss-reeking pants that once signaled his status, but now couldn’t keep the cold away, let alone protect his shoeless feet from the outside world.

“Trash. They… they threw me away… like trash. Just like Fa—NO! Don’t go there, you fucking moron! Gotta… gotta get help… Bulma, Vegeta… if I can get to them… I might… might just… make it… ARGH!” (_Beerus tries to walk, winces, collapses on his knees, gets up, tries again, falls one more time_). “Fuck! Damn limp’s back again.” 

Carrying himself as far as his aching everything allowed, Beerus happened across a welcome sight: the front entrance of that restaurant Bulma took him and Whis to over a year go. However, no matter how much the Sphygian strained his mind, he fuzzily recalled part of the route the limo took from Capsule Corp to the restaurant and back. 

Beerus cursed himself. Would it really end like this? Would Champa at least allow Vados to send a wreath on his behalf before resuming his seven-hundred and twelfth daily pig-out session? Would… Would that man even care? Would he—no! No time to waste; he had to keep moving.

The rest was a blur. The feline constantly blacked in and out, tripped and knocked down signs, trashcans, pedestrians, everything in his path. Beerus suddenly felt sharp pangs underneath his right foot, then the left one, but he was too distracted by his battered body and fading mind to care. He barely acknowledged all the passersby spewing bile in his general direction, yelling and cursing because “that damn cat who smells like piss” kept collapsing all over the place. A handful of people offered to assist him; one of them even called an ambulance, but the Sphygian was in no shape to do anything other than shamble gods knew where. 

By the time he reached the middle of a street, Beerus descended into darkness, ready to drown in a cacophony of car horns and screaming nobodies as he welcomed the sweet bliss of… death? Wait, why wasn’t he lying mangled and broken in a pool of his own blood? Instead, he was… flying? No. He was being _flown_.

“W-W-Whis…?”

_An hour and a half later…_

“So you boys found him sprawled on the street?” 

“It’s true, Dad! Can’t you see he’s hurt!?”

“We tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t listening to us! He kept calling Whis and…”

“Never mind that now, Goten. You two did the right thing bringing him here. If you hadn’t spotted him when you did… any ideas, Vegeta?”

“I keep a bag of Senzu beans in the gravity chamber. Be right back.”

“I’m gonna go get my Dad!”

“W-W-Whis?”

“Look, Mom, he’s waking up!” 

Beerus slowly opened his eyes. He blinked twice, blinded by intense light before his pupils had time to adjust.

“Lord Beerus? It’s me, Bulma.”

“B… Bul… Bulma? W-Where… where am I?”

“You’re at Capsule Corp Medical Center. Trunks and Goten found you lying on the street and rescued you. Thank Kami you didn’t get run over.”

“Mom, he’s very weak!”

“I know he’s hurt, Trunks, that’s why…”

“I’m talking about his energy!”

“What about it?”

“I can feel it! Didn’t Dad say mortals can’t sense God ki?”

“What? You don’t mean…?”

(_Beerus tries to sit upright, winces, lays back down_). “I-It’s true. I… I lost my godhood… Zen-Oh… he…”

The sobbing, convulsing and shaking returned. Bulma weighed her options. Beerus the Destroyer was lying prostrate at the CCMC, reduced to a run of the mill mortal, if Trunks’ senses were to be believed, the ever charming yet incorrigibly amoral Whis nowhere in sight. 

Bulma’s mind was overrun with questions. Did the Angel and his charge have a falling out and Whis decided enough was enough? Did the Omni-King make them participate in yet another cruel test of character to decide the fate of the universes? Were they playing a mean-spirited prank on their lackeys from a planet they regarded as little more than a glorified 24/7 all-you-can-eat buffet one step away from getting Hakai’d? 

What was she to do, who could she turn to? Beerus himself was in no condition to parlay, but if she couldn’t do anything, perhaps somebody else could. Who, though? Dende? King Kai? Shin? Something in the Earthling’s mind told her the effort would be pointless, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

“Listen carefully, Trunks: go to my room and get Whis’ communicator. It should be on top of my jewelry box. Give me a call if you can’t find it, ok?” (_Trunks nods and flies away_). “[_Now to the matter at hand: how do you console an ex-immortal who’s having an ungodly meltdown? (no pun intended)_].”

“Why didn’t he just erase me!?”

Beerus managed to sit upright, looked at his hands as if they were utterly alien to him. Bulma wanted to do something, say something, but the sight was too surreal; Hakaishin Beerus, the irascible feline warrior who nearly destroyed Earth over a pudding cup little over a year ago, laid broken and bleeding in a hospital bed, blubbering like a child, groaning in pain whenever he tried to scratch or otherwise exert himself. 

The Earthling looked at the feline’s bandaged feet. The doctors removed splinters, bits of dung, glass shards, even a handful of rusty nails embedded underneath the right heel. What made him like this? Why was he left alone on Earth, without anybody to help him? Who beat him to a bloody pulp and left him to wander the streets, where only a miracle saved him from getting turned into roadkill?

(_Bulma gently squeezes Beerus’ hand_). “[_Dammit, where’s Vegeta with those Senzu Beans!?_]. Lord Beerus… it’s ok. You’re safe now.”

(_Beerus stares back as if in a daze_). “W-What’s wrong? A-Aren’t you… aren’t you gonna… yell at me, pull… pull my ears… slap me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I deserve it. I… I’ve been so… so horrible… to you… to everybody… I…”

“Don’t say things like that, Lord Beerus! This…”

(_Beerus weakly shakes his head_). “N-No… d-d-don’t… don’t call me that… just… just call me… Beerus… from now on.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Zen-Oh… barged into my temple… turned me mortal... oh gods, what am I gonna…?”

“Take it easy, Lor—Beerus. I’ll call Whis and he’ll…”

"I found it! Mom, I found it!”

Trunks barged into the room, the communicator glimmering beneath the room's lights. Bulma immediately called Whis; no answer. She tried again; again; yet again. Nothing, zero, zip, nada.

“I don’t understand! The signal’s not getting through!”

“Bulma!”

Vegeta let himself in, soaked from the deluge outside. The Saiyan Prince’s eyes met Beerus’, who lazily stared back, as if the new arrival were a figment of his imagination, not the survivor of an annoying race he couldn’t be bothered to wipe out back in the day. Vegeta’s countenance went blank for a few seconds. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to remember himself. 

“Lord Beerus… here. Eat a Senzu bean.”

A wave of relief washed all over Beerus’ body the moment he complied. His pupils dilated, his wounds faded, the overjoyed Sphygian motioned to get up.

“This power! I-I feel amazing! I…”

The former God of Destruction had barely set one foot on the floor when a pang of weakness dropped him on his knees, forcing Vegeta to help the feline up and back to his sickbed. The Briefs were at a loss; they (and Planet Earth) wouldn’t be getting out of this one anytime soon, which really sucked, as this prank (or whatever it was) wasn’t even funny to begin with.

(_Confused Vegeta is confused_). “I don’t understand! You should be back to full strength!”

(_Beerus sighs_). “This has Zen-Oh written all over it. ‘That body of yours will be indisposed for a couple of days.’ That’s what he told me.” (_Chuckles softly, bitterly_). “Bastard…” (_Laughs louder_). “Little... bastard…” (_Yells at the top of his lungs_). “THAT LITTLE BASTARD!”

The scream was still dying out across the nearby halls when Son Goku Instant-Transmitted into the room, scaring everyone within an inch of their lives. Having uttered a stupefied “Whoa!” when his eyes met Beerus', the Saiyan blinked as if he were seeing the hot-tempered feline for the first time ever. Meanwhile, the former Hakaishin and the Briefs stood-slash-laid where they were, gawking at the greatest warrior of Universe 7 and his trademark expression of obliviousness. Vegeta was not amused, to say the least. 

“Well!? You got something to say, or are you just going to stand there all night like a dumbass!?”

“So it’strue. Goten barged into the house. He was screaming ‘Mom, Dad, Lord Beerus is dying! You gotta help him!’ It took a while for me an’ Chi-Chi to calm him down and get the full story. I tried to find your ki, Lord Beerus, but I couldn’t. Good thing I managed to track Vegeta’s. Plus, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.” (_Smiles cheekily_). “No offense, y’know.”

(_Vegeta scowls_). “Idiot.” 

(_Beerus does the same_). “For once I agree.” 

The ex-Destroyer sat upright, arms crossed against his chest in a display of strength that fooled nobody, not even a certain orange gi-wearing blockhead. A bemused Goku approached the patient, looked at him intently from head to foot, straining himself to catch whatever was amiss. Beerus didn’t take this kindly. 

“THE FUCK’RE YOU LOOKIN’ AT!?” 

Fretfulness giving way to fury, the cat man scratched the Saiyan's countenance, but only managed to hurt his own hand, chip off and break most of his fingernails while an unharmed Goku inspected himself. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

Beerus clutched his fists. Mystified by the seeping blood staining his bedsheets, the Sphygian barely overcame the urge to claw his own eyes out. 

“Supreme Kai Almighty, you can’t be serious!”

(_Clueless Goku is clueless_). “Your energy’s kinda weird, Lord Beerus. I can’t sense any God ki in you.”

(_Beerus scowls_). “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Your ki’s normal now, like everyone else’s. There’s something weird about it, though.”

“You don’t say?”

“It’s so weak. It’s almost like it’s not even there!”

(_Beerus smiles spitefully_). “Wow. You must be some kinda detective or somethin’."

“Are you really dying?”

“NO, I’M NOT DYING, YOU MEATHEAD, BUT I MIGHT AS WELL BE! DO I HAVE TO DRAW YOU A FREAKING MAP!? ZEN-OH TOOK AWAY MY GODHOOD AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY POWERS! I’M JUST A MORTAL NOW!”

(_Goku just stands there, mouth agape_). “What!?” (_Beerus grumbles to himself_). “That’s terrible! Why’d Zenny do that for!?”

“What have I told you about calling him Zenny?”

“You want me to talk to King Kai?”

“Unless he can snap his fingers and make me a god again, I ain’t interested.”

“I don’t think he can do any of those things.”

“THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU BRING HIM UP!?”

“I just thought…”

(_The veins on Vegeta’s forehead start throbbing_). “Kakarrot, will you just shut the hell up!?”

(_Frustrated Bulma is frustrated_). “[_I swear, Goku, trying to explain anything to you is like training an amoeba to recite the table of elements: absurd, tedious, pointless, not to mention hazardous to your overall mental health…_].”

“But I…”

His patience as dead as his godhood, Beerus grabbed Goku by his collar shirt and stared him down. He couldn’t make up his mind whether to gut the Saiyan or gouge his eyes out. 

“Listen up, Goku: today’s pretty much been _the _worst day of my entire life, which is saying a lot, since I’ve been alive for over two-hundred million years, long before your great-great-great-great grandparents crawled out of the primordial ooze in that galactic cesspool you Saiyans once called Planet Vegeta. No offense, Your Majesty.” (_Vegeta scoffs_). “Now Goku, I’m cold, tired, and miserable all over. My body hurts in places I didn’t even know I had, so it goes without saying I’m in a rather cranky mood. Therefore, I’m asking you… no, I’m telling you: SHUT THE FUCK UP, PAY ATTENTION, AND DON’T FREAKING INTERRUPT!”

“Ok, ok, you don’t have to yell!”

Beerus retold his story in record time. He touched upon Zen-Oh’s social call, his depowerment, his rescue by Trunks and Goten, everything his audience needed to hear.

“…I don’t hurt as much as before thanks to that Senzu bean Vegeta gave me, but I’m far from healed. Zen-Oh said my body would be… indisposed for a couple of days. That’s probably why the bean didn’t work like it was supposed to.”

(_Goku frowns_). “Wow… that… that really must suck.”

“No shit. Any questions?”

“What’re you gonna do, Lord Beerus? When you get out of the hospital, I mean.”

(_Beerus sighs despondently_). “I dunno. ‘Spose I’ll have to get a job, find a place to live, pay rent, get old till I croak or something.”

“You’re gonna turn into a frog!?”

(_Beerus grumbles_). “I mean until I die, shit-for-brains!”

It took Goku all of five seconds to come up with a plan. It took Beerus far less time to make up his mind.

“Why don’t you stay over at my house?”

“Huh?”

“I can help you with finding a job and a home. You can help me with farm work, and I’ll share the profits with you. Of course, I don’t really make that much money, so…”

“Farm work, huh? Not really my thing, but beggars can’t be choosers.” (_Sighs, shrugs_). “Sure, why not?”

(_Goku grins from ear to ear_). “Really? That’s great!”

“The hell’re you so happy about?”

The Saiyan grinned deviously. He approached the sweating, skittish ex-deity, made as if to whisper in his ear.

“Along with help on the farm, I want something else from you.”

“[_Please-don’t-ask-for-a-rematch-please-don’t-ask-for-a-rematch…_].”

“I want you to train with me.”

Beerus blinked, then scowled in disbelief. Near tears, the Sphygian clutched his fists, deaf to Bulma’s urging to stop digging his own fingernails into his blood-soaked palms.

“Didn’t you listen to a single word I said!? I _lost_ my powers! I can’t…”

“I know Zenny took them away, but I was thinking maybe, just maybe, I could help you get them back. At least the basics for now.”

“Y-You idiot! I-I-I’m not even good for a warmup! All you guys have to do is snort in my general direction and I’ve had it!”

“Don’t be like that, Lord Beerus…”

(_Beerus opens his hands_). “It’s just Beerus now. The only thing I’m Lord of is broken teeth and shattered bones.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, man. Everyone needs help at one time or another. Heck, me and Vegeta needed Whis’ help to figure out God ki, and we’re still learning.”

(_Bummed out Beerus is bummed out_). “You seriously had to bring up God ki…?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I wanna help you. I can’t let somebody as cool and awesome as you give up on himself.”

Beerus’ ears perked up. Did he hear the Saiyan right, or had his remaining neurons died on him?

“Huh? You really think that? About _me_?”

(_Goku smiles widely_). “Of course I do! You’re one of the strongest guys in the universe!”

The former Hakaishin frowned; his tone danced in-between anger, sorrow, fear, despair, hope as Goku cautiously approached him.

“I _was _one of the strongest guys in the universe. As for the “cool and awesome” part, I think you got me confused with somebody else.”

Goku gradually put his hand on Beerus’ shoulder. The feline made no effort to stop him. He was done fighting; at least for tonight.

“It’s OK, Lord Beerus; you’re sad and hurting all over. I’ve felt like that plenty of times, but I pulled through ‘coz I had friends like Bulma and Vegeta to help me.” 

The Saiyan Prince scoffed contemptuously. His wife, however, betrayed how warm and fuzzy such remarks made her feel.

“[_Aww… the little boy I met years ago is very much alive… which is more than I can say for a certain God of Destruction…_].

(_Stern Beerus is stern_). “You’re serious about this, Goku? You really think I can get my powers back if I train with you?”

(_Goku shrugs awkwardly_). “I’m not really sure, to be honest, but it’s worth a try. Better’n doing nothin’.”

Beerus joyfully jumped out of bed. His will strengthened, his resolve restored, the Sphygian stood, ready to rock everyone’s world, or die trying.

(_The instrumental chorus of “Limit Break x Survivor” plays in the background_). “I’LL DO IT! Let’s get out of here and…” (_Beerus falls flat on his face. Record scratch; music screeches to anticlimactic halt_). 

Goku picked Beerus up, laid him back down on the bed as gently as possible. For his part, the former Destroyer dolefully massaged his bruised snout while a nurse brought in his supper.

“Lord Beerus! Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride. Gods damn it…”

The cat man grabbed a plastic knife and fork, but had trouble holding on to them. With Bulma’s help, Beerus <strike>the Destroyed</strike> halfheartedly dug into a bit of grilled chicken, some mashed potatoes, and all but a couple of peas and carrots that were nothing to write home about. The nourishment was surely welcome, but the whole fare could’ve done with a bit of salt and other such seasonings, far as the patient was concerned.

(_Bulma helps the nurse dispose of food waste and other rubbish_). “You’re not going anywhere just yet. I suggest we wait a couple of weeks, see if you get your strength back.”

“Can’t argue with that kind of logic. And Goku? I want you to promise me something.”

“What is it, Lord Beerus?”

The feline smiled cheekily. Signaling Goku to approach so he could whisper into his ear, the Sphygian already savored the next moment.

“Just Beerus, ok? Anyway, it’s a simple, dare I say _reasonable_ request.”

“Yeah?”

(_Beerus furiously yanks Goku’s ear, screams into it_). “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT ASKING ZEN-OH TO CHANGE HIS FUCKING MIND, YOU HEAR ME!? THAT BRAT’S SO ANGRY WITH ME, IT'S A MIRACLE HE HASN’T TORN ME INTO BLOODY PIECES AND MADE SHISH KEBABS OUT OF MY STINKING GUTS! ALSO, DON’T GET ANY FUNNY IDEAS ABOUT MAKING HIM COME HERE UNLESS YOU WANT HIM TO ERASE THIS ENTIRE PLANET AND THE WHOLE GODS-DAMNED UNIVERSE! DO I MAKE MYSELF **_ABSOLUTELY_** CLEAR!?

(_Goku frees himself from Beerus’ grip_). “OWW! Yeah, yeah, crystal! I’m not an idiot!”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” (_Yawns yet again_). “Supreme Kai damn it, I’m tired!”

“At least _that _hasn’t changed.” (_Beerus stares sourly_). “C’mon guys, let’s go so Lord Beerus can get some sleep.”

“I told you, it’s just Beerus now. I’m not a Destroyer anymore. Hell, I’m not much of anything now.” (_Another loud yawn_). “Hopefully, I’ll be back in my temple tomorrow; Whis’ll sing with that horrible voice of his while he makes breakfast, and we can both laugh at this nightmare I’m having.”

“But it’s not a…” (_Beerus glowers_). “Ok, ok, we’re going! Sheesh…”

Goku, Vegeta and Trunks quit the room. After a short talk with a doctor, Bulma joined them in the hallway with a frown on her face.

“Poor Beerus…”

(_Vegeta scoffs_). “Poor _us_, you mean. Like he wasn’t a pain in the ass before...”

“Have a heart, Vegeta! The guy lost his powers, his home, everything he had and everything he was!”

“You’re surprisingly forgiving, considering what that bastard has done to us. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten about the day he slapped you and almost killed us, how he wrecked your time machine without so much as a damn apology. We would all be dead now if you hadn’t bribed him with those fish sausages. Also, need I remind you he stood by and did nothing when Frieza invaded?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten, but that’s not the point! We can’t just turn our backs on him!” 

“No, _you _can’t turn your back on him. I, on the other hand…”

“Vegeta, he needs our help. If we come through for him, he might…”

“He might what, Bulma? Thank us? You seriously expect Beerus the Destroyer to feel gratitude!? Towards _us_!? He’s a fucking cat, woman! He thinks the entire Universe revolves around him!” (_Vegeta realizes something, calms down a bit_). “At least now we can do something about him next time he...”

“I’m with Bulma on this one, Vegeta. Don’t you remember what _you_ were like when we first met?”

Vegeta’s subsequent scream startled Bulma, Goku, Trunks, any poor dope nearby just minding their own business. The Prince of All Saiyans was in no mood for a stroll down memory lane. 

“I TOLD YOU TO NEVER BRING THAT UP AGAIN!” (_Huffs and puffs vehemently_). “And last I checked, I’m not some overpowered, overrated, self-important cat thing who destroys entire galaxies because he hates greasy food or some other bullshit.”

(_Bulma yawns_). “Give it a rest, Vegeta. If Beerus doesstep out of line, you and Goku can deal with him right there and then. In the meantime, we’re going to do everything we can to help him.”

(_Vegeta scoffs_). “[_Leave it to Earthlings to pity riffraff!_]. Come along, Trunks. It’s way past your bedtime, and we need to check up on your sister.”

“I’d better get going too. See you tomorrow, guys!”

With that, Son Goku Instant-Transmitted himself out of Capsule Corp as the group dispersed, blissfully unaware that the subject-slash-object of their discussion had heard every single word…

_The Omni-King’s Realm…_

Zen-Oh signaled an attendant to deactivate a nearby projector. Having cleared his throat, the Omni-King sifted his words carefully.

“Now you guys see what we must deal with. This operation will be far more complex than we anticipated.”

“Indeed, Your Eminence. Even so, I have some reservations about this plan. I have known Lord B—_Subject_ B since the day he was born. He’s not one to shut up and do what he’s told… unless properly compelled, that is. [_He wasn’t easy to potty-train, either; boy, do I have the scars to prove it…_].”

“No arguments here, Whis. I never said this would be easy, let alone pleasant.”

Vados, Guide Angel of the Hakaishin from Universe 6, relished the moment she’d be relieved of her duties toward a certain <strike>fat-ass</strike> rotund feline of some consequence.

“Subject C is anything but a cakewalk himself. Still, I must agree with Whis: I can’t help but wonder why we’re doing any of this.”

“Subject Q will prove difficult as well. In fact, I fear he will be harder to rein in than B and C.”

“Count your blessings, Cognac. I, for one, will be glad to see Subject S gone. If I never again gaze upon that bearded moron’s face or hear his voice for the rest of eternity, I’ll live more than happily.”

(_Whis nearly laughs_). “Really, Mojito? _You_, happy?”

(_Vados chuckled_). “That would be a first!” 

(_Unamused Grand Priest is unamused_). “Furthermore, we are having trouble locating the fifth candidate. We haven't picked up any trace of Subject R since the Void Realm’s attack on Universe 10.”

(_Spiteful Mojito is spiteful_). “Never mind that blasted elephant, Father. Are there any news regarding Kusu?”

(_Sad Grand Priest is sad_). “She has yet to awaken, my son. The Principle of Vacuity drained more than half her energy before Ru—Subject R reached her. She’s lucky to be alive, even after the ki transfusion.”

“Can nothing more be done? I wish for her welfare myself, but we will need her help if we are to overcome the Void Realm. We’ll also need Cukatail, Martinu, Sour, Camparri, Awamo, Korn, and Marcarita for the upcoming battle.”

“The Attendants from Universes 2, 3, 5, 11 and 12 are recovering from their injuries as well, Cognac. In addition to placing barriers throughout the universes, I summoned Korn and Awamo here along with Liquiir and Iwan in compliance with Grand Zen-Oh’s orders. As for your reservations, His Eminence and I are aware of the risks, yet there is no other way. Subjects B, Q, C, S and R, the Five Failures, must become more than what they are, than what they have ever been, if the Multiverse is to survive. Son Goku and his friends should prove pivotal on that regard. Now Whis, have you spoken with Subject B’s replacement?”

“I have, Father. He can hardly wait to take charge and “whip this sorry excuse for a Universe into shape,” as he puts it.” (_Chuckles_). “Plus, I think B’s predecessor will come to appreciate him.”

(_Mojito is still downcast_). “If my Universe’s new God proves to be half the Destroyer S isn’t, I’ll have no complaints.”

“What about the Trio of Danger?”

“Bergamo, Basil and Lavender are doing their best, Your Eminence, but it’s not enough to make up for the missing warriors. Still, I must admit that the elder brother’s fighting prowess has improved significantly since the Tournament of Power. I am… entertaining the thought of offering him the title. I’m certain he’ll accept... [_given the right incentives…_].”

(_Vados shrugs_). “I have nothing more to say regarding the candidates for God of Destruction of Universe 6.”

(_Cognac produces a comb, runs it through hair_). “You already know my thoughts about Universe 4’s candidate. My new pupil will certainly be a vast improvement over that accursed rat.”

“Good. Meeting adjourned.” (_Zen-Oh turns to one of his attendants as the Angels quit the chamber). _“Tell the group from Universe 4 to come in.” (_Attendant complies_). “This oughta be interesting…”

* * *

[1] Sentences in _italics_ locked in [square brackets] indicate what a character is thinking, but does not say out loud.

[2] “Oh-koh-ceem” (Source: https://www.quora.com/How-are-the-Polish-beers-Okocim-and-Zywiec-pronounced); “Lech” (as in “lecher,” “lechery,” etc.); “Sah.”

[3] “Es-fee-gee-ans.” From the Greek Σφίγξ (_sphigx_) = “sphinx.” (Source: Wikipedia).


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beerus' first day as a mortal goes about as well as one would expect. However, perhaps there's more to the former Hakaishin than even he is aware of...

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 2: Awakening

_That night, around 2:00 AM_…

Okocim found himself floating in the vacuum of space. Wearing nothing but his hospital gown, the former Lord Beerus shivered in deepest cold for hours (or what _seemed_ like hours), mortified at his predicament. He’d begun the day as the God of Destruction of Universe 7, one of the most powerful beings in the Multiverse, second only to Grand Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, the Angels, and a handful of mortals. However, the last four or five hours saw Beerus reduced to a powerless wreck, severely battered by some nobody he recklessly, stupidly injured <strike>because he just couldn’t get over his own fucking self</strike>, evicted from his temple, exiled to Planet Earth in the very Universe he’d neglected for so long. 

Now he was stuck in outer space, freezing, only an instant away from being spotted by former enemies or, gods forbid, spies on his fellow Destroyers’ payroll, all of whom would have the greatest laughing fit in eons upon learning the news. A comet passed the cat man by, followed by a meteor shower, both of which startled him, but otherwise did no damage. Thus, Okocim drifted for what seemed like forever, until a gigantic red planet appeared in front of him.

(_Okocim strains his eyes_). “Wait a minute. This is…”

“Planet Vegeta.”

The Sphygian couldn’t believe who that voice belonged to: himself, clad in full Destroyer regalia! Standing next to him was Whis and… 

“Think you can manage it, Frieza?”

(_Frieza flashes a conniving smile_). “Why, of course, Lord Beerus. I’ve been mulling over its destruction myself. Those filthy monkeys need to be put in their place before they get any funny ideas about seizing power.”

Beerus was not impressed. Arms crossed against his chest, the Hakaishin looked the so-called Galactic Overlord square in the eyes.

“I don’t care how or why you do it, lizard. Just see the job through, or you can kiss your empire goodbye. Dismissed.”

(_Frieza briefly scowls_). “As you wish, my Lord.”

With that, the Icejin and the Destroyer parted ways. Whis grinned mischievously.

“Dare I believe my ears, Lord Beerus? _You_ passing up a chance to destroy a planet? What’s this universe coming to?”

“Spare the sarcasm, Whis. Let’s hurry on home so we can eat and watch the fireworks.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Okocim gasped as his attendant and former self vanished into the depths of space. Not this! Merciful gods, anything but this!

“STOP HIM! DON’T LET HIM DO IT! WHIS! WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!”

It took all of ten seconds for Frieza to wipe out Planet Vegeta and its inhabitants, their existence engulfed in sun-like hurricane which devoured women, children, men, animals, spacecraft, whatever stood in its way. Something in Okocim’s mind roared at him to escape, scream, guard himself, but the ex-Destroyer found himself awed into stupefaction, as if he had forfeited the right to a life he wasn’t entitled to. 

The Sphygian thought his eyes deceived him as the energy wave began to scorch him, the massive Death Ball seconds away from incinerating him. One of the countless Saiyan warriors caught in its path was none other than… 

“GOKU!?”

Okocim woke up screaming at the top of his lungs. Panting violently, drenched in sweat, the former deity realized he was still in his room at the Medical Center. Catching his breath, the feline laid back down and stared into the darkness, then at his trembling, shivering hands, the sounds of his sobbing echoing through the night… 

_The next day, 6:00 AM…_

The blaring alarm clock woke Okocim with a start. Upon examining the curious trinket, the Sphygian found the “Snooze” button and went back to sleep… for all of five seconds. The alarm resumed, prompting the same reaction. The feline shut his eyes and gently drifted into… and the alarm returned. Another shut off. Return. Shut off. Return. Shut off. Losing his patience, an angry Okocim literally punched the clock. Damn thing didn’t even dent.

The former Hakaishin examined himself: his left arm was tethered to a strange bag filled with transparent liquid, held up by a metal rod with tiny wheels. Okocim surmised a nurse must’ve connected him to it the night before, while he was still unconscious. Somebody also took the trouble to clasp a plastic band to his right wrist, which upon closer examination read “CCMC” and his... name?

“L. Beerus.”

Okocim could see it now. Goten and Trunks most likely landed outside the hospital, carrying him unconscious on their backs, spooking staff and visitors. No big deal. Most Earthlings were unused to beings capable of flying without the aid of wings or machinery, particularly hover cars or those ugly, overrated metal birds that could seat hundreds if you skimped on leg room. What did Whis say they were called? Beerus had made a mental note to teach their owners a lesson, maybe even Hakai them a little, but never got around to it. 

Anyway, the half-Saiyans all but warped into the front room, yelling to the tune of “Help! This ugly purple cat thing is dying! Somebody save him!” Long story short, the doctors and nurses arrived, the kids flew to the Briefs mansion and gave Bulma and Vegeta the news. How long did it take for the pair to realize the boys were telling the truth, that they weren’t crying wolf, or playing some other tasteless prank? 

For that matter, Bulma probably had a hard time giving some required information to the staff, particularly the patient’s full name. Okocim nearly laughed; he could only imagine how that discussion went. 

Bulma: “His name is L. Beerus.”

Random Receptionist: “What does the L stand for?” 

Bulma put on her thinking cap; she needed an answer, and she needed it now. Lawrence? Too generic. Leonard? Too unfitting. Linus? Too silly. Lacey? Too prissy. Laertes? Too mythological. Louis? Again, too generic. <strike>Plus, he didn’t have horns</strike>. Lamont? Too badass.

Bulma: “Lord. His name is Lord.”

RR (_puzzled_): “Lord? _Lord_ Beerus?”

Bulma (_smiles sheepishly, crosses fingers behind her back_): “His parents were born-again Christians. Very staunch, churchgoing. Really nice people.”

RR (_indifferent_): “Fair enough.”

Okocim finally let out a faint chuckle. He remained weakened from the night before. That Senzu bean made short work of his injuries, but the same couldn’t be said of Zen-Oh’s magic and its aftermath. Hopefully he’d regain his strength after a coupla weeks, like Bulma said. 

The sooner, the better. The thought of spending the rest of his life as a bedridden shadow of his former self was anything but appealing. What to do now? Bulma would likely visit soon. Maybe a nurse would drop by and…

“_Disgraceful_.”

Okocim’s eyes widened, his ears attentive. The room grew deathly cold, the air around him acquired a sulfurous stench, his heartbeat sped up, and his hospital gown clung to the acrid sweat all over his body. The Sphygian looked around: there was nobody else there.

(_Okocim swallows hard_). “Huh? W-W-Who said that?”

A glacial, otherworldly masculine voice bounced off walls, windows, picture frames, everything it came across. Okocim wanted to run away, scream, yet couldn’t make himself do much of anything. 

“_Remove thyself, blood of Artois. Thy destiny lies not herein_.”

“[_Yeah; that’ll happen_].”

Beerus’ brow furrowed with determination. He’d be damned before he let a figment of his imagination boss him around. It had taken him a while to fall asleep last night and he was still rattled after yesterday, so his mind could be forgiven for playing a couple of tricks on him.

Okocim lied back down, drifted back into sleep. So far so good. Now there would be peace, quiet… and the alarm went off again. 

Yelling in rage, Beerus yanked the blasted machine from the tabletop and threw it across the room, shattering it and breaking its electrical cord in the process. The former god swallowed hard.

“Damn… Bulma’s gonna kill me.” (_Chuckles_). “So much the better…”

The door to the room opened some four or five minutes later, heralding a doctor and a couple of nurses who let themselves in without preamble. The first nurse greeted the patient in a friendly-yet-professional tone.

“Good morning, Sir.”

(_Apathetic_ _Okocim is apathetic_). “Hi. How y’all doin’?”

(_The Doctor checks his notes_). “Mr. Lambert Beerus?”

(_Confused Okocim is confused_). “Huh?”

“Lambert Beerus. That's your name, right?”

Okocim, paragon of sociability, apostle of eloquence, forced an awkward smile, silently cursing the sweat on his brow. This little misunderstanding had Bulma’s name written all over it. Regardless, he thought it best to play along… for now.

“Y-Yeah, of course! That’s me, alright; Lambert Beerus.”

(_The Doctor raises an eyebrow_). “We’ll determine whether it’s safe for you to be up and about, then we’ll have your breakfast brought.”

The second nurse took a discrete closer look. Something in her mind told her there was something off about this Beerus fellow. What was it, though?

“Are you alright, Mr. Beerus? You seem a little…”

“Sick? Tired? Done with it?”

“I was going to say “on edge.” Anyway, please try to relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“[_Yeah, that’s what they always say…_].”

The group went about their work, asking the patient questions about his mental state, pain, discomfort, etc. This went on for a good ten minutes, by Okocim’s estimation. Still, his thoughts went back and forth to yesterday’s events, his mind’s eyes ceaselessly replaying them in no particular order. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. Okocim allowed his mind to wonder, laid back down while the group finished their rounds. Now he could gather himself, maybe make up for lost sleep and…

“_Pitiful scion_…” 

“W-WHO SAID THAT!?” 

Okocim almost threw out his neck. He frantically looked back and forth by the time the spooked nurses regained their composure and the rather grumpy doctor sighed, relieved he'd caught a falling bottle of who-knows-who-cares just in time.

(_Wary First Nurse is_ _wary_). “Who said what, Sir?”

“Didn’t you guys hear somebody say “Pitiful scion”!?”

_(Second Nurse is not happy at_ _all_). “None of us said that.”

Okocim crossed his legs, looked down in shame. There he was, making a pest of himself again. _He _wouldn’t like that at all. The disgraced Hakaishin could see it now, that white-hot-slash-ice-cold look he hadn’t recalled in eons. 

Imprisonment. Isolation. Starvation. Ridicule. Contempt. Death. He’d gladly put up with all of it if it would keep _him _away. Hell, erasure was becoming more appealing with each passing second… 

“I… I’m sorry. Guess I’m more nervous than I thought.” 

Either that or the nightmare affected Okocim more than he cared to admit. By his estimation, it must’ve taken him at least a couple of hours to fall asleep again. 

As the Sphygian pondered thus, the doctor conducted the required tests, determined the patient could leave the room in a wheelchair and wander the premises with an escort. Shortly after, Bulma made good on her promise.

“Good morning, Lor—I-I mean, Beerus.” 

(_Okocim whispers in Bulma’s ears_). “Seriously? Lambert?”

(_Bulma smiles apologetically_). “Y-Yeah, sorry about that. They asked for your full name, so I had to improvise... how did you sleep?”

(_Halfhearted Okocim is halfhearted_). “Ok, I guess.”

“Beerus…” 

“I’m sorry, Bulma. It’s not that I’m not… y’know, grateful. It’s just, I feel so… shitty.” (_Turns to the medical staff_). “Pardon my language.”

(_Bulma gently squeezes <strike>Lambert's</strike> Okocim’s hand_). “You went through a terrible ordeal, Beerus. Nobody expects you to bounce back and carry on like nothing happened. You gotta give yourself time to heal.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Tell you what: first thing after breakfast, we’ll head to my house and find you something to wear.”

(_Okocim yawns loudly_). “I’m really not all that hungry.”

“It’s ok. Eat as much as you can. By the way, do you drink coffee?”

“Whis brewed some every now and then. First time I tried it, he said to me…” 

Okocim cleared his throat, readied to mimic Whis’ voice and mannerisms. His eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, the Sphygian recalled the eons-old exchange as if he were witnessing it anew, different scenes dancing in front of his mind’s eye in no determined order.

“‘This is coffee, Lord Beerus, a beverage popular on Planet Earth. If you drink it, you’ll go right back to sleep and won’t wake up for the next three centuries.’” (_Chuckles_). “Being a complete and utter dumbass, I bought it hook, line and fucking sinker (pardon my language). (_Barely suppresses a laugh_). Whis, he later told me he added some extra potent catnip from Sekhmet, my home planet. I spent hours running and jumping and scratching everything all over the place, even wiped my ass on a couple of fancy rugs.” (_Both of them laugh_). “To make matters worse, we had a meeting with Zen-Oh that day, which Whis conveniently forgot to mention. What he _did _mention was how I pulled down my pants and mooned our august audience while twerking and singing show tunes. Long story short, I made a complete and utter fool of myself in front of the Omni-King, the Grand Priest, their attendants, my brother, _his_ attendant, _my_ attendant, all the other Destroyers and _their _attendants.” 

The patient and visitor guffawed to their hearts’ content, earning them stern looks from the nearby medical staff, which they shamefacedly acknowledged. Okocim paid them little heed, however: what was a social faux pas compared to forgetting about his predicament, about Champa, about that man… about _her_?

“Goes without saying the divine brat didn’t look too happy. We thought he was gonna erase us all right there and then, like in the hide-and-seek thing, but he just started laughing! Everyone joined in! Hell, I’m willing to bet they recorded the whole thing for posterity!” (_Frowns_). “I know Whis did.” 

“I’ll find a way to reach him. I promise.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Beerus… anyway, I took the liberty of arranging a meeting with my seamstress.”

“What, you want me to try on one of your gaudy dresses?”

(_Miffed Bulma is..._). “Excuse me!?”

(_Okocim makes a placating gesture_). “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” (_Chuckles_). “Geez, lemme have a laugh every once in a while!”

“Actually, she’ll be making clothes for you. I don’t think Goku and Vegeta have anything your size, and the others still don’t know what happened. Plus, that uniform of yours was beyond saving.”

“If you’re wondering why I only had that one pair of pants, it’s ‘coz Zen-Oh took everything else I had, then threw me out without so much as a change of underwear. Mighty merciful of him, leaving me some rags so I don’t freeze my nuts off.”

“Beerus, I…”

“I know, I know, you’re sorry for what happened.” (_Okocim sighs_). “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Bulma, but put a lid on that. It’s making me feel worse.”

“I understand. Look, Vegeta and I will be attending meetings all day, and Trunks will be at school till at least four in the afternoon.”

“Want me to pick ‘im up?”

“No, of course not! I-I mean, Dad’ll take care of that. If you need anything, feel free to ask my parents or the staff. They’re always ready to help… within reason, that is.”

“You think I’m gonna start being my usual catty self, don’t you? Don’t worry. I know better than to bite the hand that feeds me…” (_Sly grin_) “…especially when it can bite me right back. No offense, y’know.”

(_Bulma chuckles). _“None taken… oh, almost forgot. Goku phoned, said he wanted to take you out for “basic training.” 

“[_Damn monkey…_]. You told him “no,” right?”

“He said he’d keep it simple, nothing that requires moving around. Anyway, I told him to swing by an hour or so from now. I was thinking…” 

“Hi, Lord Beerus!” 

Son Goku materialized out of nowhere in front of the patient, guest and staff, rousing hosannas of terror and screaming alleluias that shattered a couple of thousand decibels (not to mention all known standards of decorum) and nearly every single eardrum within a ten-mile radius. Five minutes later, after the yelling subsided and everyone had caught their breath, Bulma punched the Saiyan upside the head as a vindicated Beerus smiled triumphantly.

“GOKU, YOU IDIOT! YOU SCARED US HALF TO DEATH!”

(_Goku nurses the giant anime bump on his head_). “Ow! Sorry ‘bout that, guys. Just wanted t’see how you were doing, Lord Beerus.”

(_Beerus smiles creepily_). “Why, I’m just peachy, Goku. Can’t you see how much fun I’m having right now?”

“Really?”

“OF COURSE NOT, YOU NITWIT! MY BODY’S ACHING ALL OVER, I’M PRACTICALLY NAKED, FREEZING MY BALLS OFF, DON’T HAVE A SINGLE ZENNI TO MY NAME AND, LEST WE FORGET, I’M MORTAL! FUCKING. MORTAL.” (_Takes a deep breath_). “Anything else you want me to fill you in about?”

“Why do babies come from?”

“ARE YOU FOR REAL!? HOW IN THE MULTIVERSE DID Y—wait, what was the question again?”

“Why. Do. Babies. Come. From?”

Okocim blinked in utter confusion. Did monkey boy take another blow to his noggin or something? Did Whis spike his coffee again? Was that question even allowed?

“You mean “_where_ do babies come from,” right?”

“I know that part. What I wanna know is why.”

(_Beerus nearly falls from the bed_). “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? THAT QUESTION DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE!”

“Well I’m sorry. I thought maybe _you_ would know, seeing how you used to be a… y’know…”

(_Beerus facepalms so hard, his handprint is seared into his forehead_). “[_Zen-Oh, you overpowered midget. You never let up, do you?_]. Why do I even bother? Also, in case you’re wondering, no, I’m still not well enough to start training. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t do it right now.”

“Hey, I understand. You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

(_Beerus grumbles_). “I’m not the Supreme Fucking Kai, Goku. Just because I used to be a god doesn’t mean I know all there is to know about the Universe or whatever else your empty little mind’s wondering about today.”

“Aww…” (_Goku turns to Bulma_). “Do _you _know why do babies come from?” (_Collective groan, facepalm_).

_Later, at the Briefs Mansion’s living room…_

“Can we hurry this up? My arms and legs are starting to cramp.”

Okocim struggled to keep himself straightened on a pair of elbow crutches as the seamstress Bulma brought in measured him from head to foot. Far as the ex-Hakaishin was concerned, this was the epitome of opprobrium. An ex-God of Destruction unable to stand on his own feet, barely held up by mortal-made props! Losing his powers was one thing, but _this_? The Omni-King must’ve _really_ hated him if he opted for humiliation rather than old-fashioned erasure. Who would’ve thought that childish blue thumbtack had it in him? 

The feline barely stifled a chuckle. He could just see his fellow Destroyers pointing at him, laughing themselves stupid as Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, his children and their stooges ate crumpets, guzzled down tea and recorded the occasion for posterity. Not that they’d need to: Gowasu, that senile pointy-eared yellow raisin, Mr. I-Almost-Screwed-the-Whole-Multiverse-Over-‘Coz-I’m-a-Horrible-Judge-of-Character, would only be too happy to immortalize this omniversal milestone for GodTube or wherever. 

The Sphygian could see it now. Iwan, son of Riesling, of House Bundaberg, would be munching on popcorn or whatever, guffawing out loud like the self-pleased putz he was. Jerez, daughter of Philopatra, of House Ahram, would steal her glance from her hand mirror for a chuckle here and there. Regardless, she’d have more important things to do than watch the latest scion of the <strike>cursed</strike> fabled Artois bloodline be humiliated for the viewing pleasure of every jerk and their sister. Mule, heir of Haku, of House Ketel, would mark the occasion by stepping out from Mosco, that rusty hunkajunk glorified porta-potty of his, to personally etch a couple hundred sketches for gods know what purposes. 

Next would be Quitela, heir of Sazerac, of House Rosángel. Sweet merciful gods, how he hated that fucking rat with the white-hot passion of a septillion suns! Okocim could hear it now, that grating “Kekeke!” laugh echoing through the room as Quitela pointed at “Beerus” and pigged out on Roquefort or some other overpriced cheese after Pack Mule graciously accepted a back ish of some science magazine or other in exchange for a turn inside Mosco <strike>(and a foursome? With Zenny and Grand Priest?)</strike>. 

Such lovely dissonance could only be perfected by Arak, son of Ksarak, of House Gat. Now _that _would be quite a sight. Who would’ve thought that self-righteous prune had a sense of humor? Hell, his laugh box would probably crap out on him, having gone underused for veritable centuries. Oh well. He could always bribe Mule to make him an artificial one that generates free Wi-Fi and pumps medicine into his heart to fix that little problem downstairs. 

Of course, Beerus’ humiliation wouldn’t be complete without his <strike>annoying</strike> beloved twin brother. Champa would burn over ten thousand calories by cackling alone; he’d probably have a six-pack by the ten-minute mark. Vados and the rest of the Angels (even the male ones) would stop guffawing at intervals to admire him. 

Next would be Liquiir, son of Nebbiolus, of House Amarone, stupidly handsome as ever, growing his ten-millionth tail by sheer force of hilarity in an event that would make the Tournament of Power look like a Sunday picnic on Earth’s moon (assuming some jackass hadn’t blown it up _again_). Not far would be Sidra, son of Bantam, of House Blackthorn, relieved that he’d finally found someone more pathetic than himself. That, and his Supreme Kai at last had a cure for his chronic hemorrhoids.

Then would come Rumush, son of Kapil, of House Hariya, trumpeting his amusement for everyone to hear, getting more work done in a minute than he had in eons. Meanwhile, Vermoud, heir of Riccadonna, of House Cinzano, would make obnoxious comments to the tune of “What’s the matter, Beerus? Don’t have a _leg_ to stand on?” while he went over a checklist of novelty condoms and other souvenirs for Jiren and the rest of that superhero-slash-circus troupe of his.

Last, but certainly not least, Geene, heir of Bonak, of House Terroir, wouldn’t have to worry about missing his daily training. He’d be getting his workout in spades, seeing how he seemed to laugh once or twice every couple of eons, around the same time he'd have his once-every-couple-hundred-millenniums orgasm before resuming his fishy celibacy (no pun intended).

Still, Okocim would gladly put up with all that and more if it meant _he _wouldn’t be there. Merciful Omni-King, anything but that! The disgraced deity would rather Vegeta wring his neck than suffer that man and his look of relentless contempt. Who knows? Maybe he’d be too amused to summon that lackey of his; yeah, it’d been over a billion years. Guy likely had better things to do than yell at him, lock him up and call him…

“Beerus!”

“Huh!?”

“Straighten yourself up. You’re slouching too much.”

Okocim clumsily straightened himself up, almost toppled over. The Sphygian took a quick look at the outfit Bulma graciously lent him: an oversized pink shirt that read “BADMAN” at the back, excessively wide cargo jeans, barely held in place by a leather belt, and a pair of almost clown-like sneakers which, much like their wearer, had clearly seen better days.

“Sorry, Fa—I-I mean, Bulma! Must’ve zoned out a bit.”

(_The seamstress stands up_). “And we’re done. I can have the first set ready by this afternoon at the latest, Mrs. Briefs.”

“That’s perfect. You hear that, Beerus? You won’t have to wear those things much longer.”

(_Deadpan Okocim is deadpan_). “Good. I look like a friggin’ scarecrow. Too much “crow,” not enough “scare.”

Bulma and the seamstress laughed. Far be it from them to mock another person’s misfortune, but damn if this didn’t deserve a chuckle or two. The seamstress exchanged pleasantries, then showed herself out. 

“You see, Beerus? Things’re looking up already.”

(_Half-hearted Okocim is..._). “Yeah, sure. Uh, Bulma? Not to be rude or anything, but could you…?” (_Points at a nearby wheelchair, falls flat on his face_). “Gods damn it! It’s like they took out my fucking skeleton and replaced it with overcooked noodles!” (_Nurses his bruised snout_). “Damn, that smarts!”

“I’ll get you some ice, then I’ll show you your room before you go out with Goku.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

_Later still…_

Bulma led the way to a room further inside the Briefs household. Okocim followed behind, struggling to keep up in his wheelchair.

“Hell’re we doin’ here?”

“Remember that young man who came here on that time machine?”

“The blue-haired guy who tried to make me fight Zamasu, but I told him to fu—quit naggin’ me or I’d Hakai him?”

“That’s the one. He used this room the first time he visited our timeline.”

“When 17 and 18 were a threat and you guys adopted this timeline’s Cell, right?”

“That’s right, only we don’t call him that anymore. His name is Android 21.

“Won’t that get confusing later on?”

“Why would it be confusing?”

“Never mind. Just thinking out loud.” (_Looks around the room_). “Nice place. Any particular reason why we’re alone?”

“No, why do you…?” (_Realizes something, turns crimson red_). “Hold on, you don’t think…!?”

(_Okocim’s face burns red-hot_). “N-No, it’s not like that at all!” (_Looks away, nervously tugs on his shirt collar_). “[_Gods, this is awkward…_]. N-Now Bulma, y-y-you’re a very attractive woman and all, but…” (_Clears throat, dolefully meets her eyes_). “Look, I know I’m not easy to get along with. I can be petty, surly, not to mention selfish and an overall drag and purveyor of misery, but… I’m not that kind of male.”

“Beerus… that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “Well, considering the bar’s been set so astronomically low… please don’t tell Vegeta.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” (_Bulma points to a nearby wall_). “You can call on the intercom if you…”

(_Goku Instant-Transmits into the room_). “You ready to go, Lord Beerus?” (_Bulma and Okocim scream their guts out. Hijinks ensue_).

_Two hours later…_

Goku and Okocim apparated in a clearing not far from the Saiyan’s home. The greatest warrior of Universe 7 inhaled and exhaled with gusto. Truly this was a great day to be alive, even if a certain feline made it his business to sour the mood.

“We there yet?” 

“We’re here, Lord Beerus.”

“Just Beerus, ok? Why the hell did you bring me to the middle of nowhere? You realize I’m still recovering, right?”

“We’re not gonna do anything difficult. Today I’m gonna teach you how to channel ki.”

“Fair enough.” 

With a forlorn sigh, Okocim shut his eyes and cupped his hands, concentrating ki into his fingers. Nothing happened.

“[_Focus…_].” 

Another attempt. Still nothing. 

“[_Almost… almost there… I can feel it…_].” 

Nothing still. Still another attempt. 

“[_I-It shouldn’t be **this** hard!_].”

Nothing; zero; zip; nada. By now the feline was all but drowning in his own sweat.

“[_Quit screwin’ around, Beerus! Now focus and…_]. GODS DAMMIT!”

Yet another whole load of nothing. Panting with increasing violence, the exasperated Beerus firmly shut his eyes and dug his fingernails into his palms, his blood dripping to the ground not unlike a belated crimson drizzle, much to Goku’s concern.

“[_That’s weird. He should be able to do this by now…_]. H-Hey, take it easy, Lord Beerus! We won’t get anywhere if you lose your temper.”

“DON’T TELL ME NOT TO LOSE MY TEMPER, YOU MENTALLY HANDICAPPED APE!” (_Tries to collect himself_). “Channeling energy is like learning how to walk. You have to know how to get from one point to another before… before… before… FUCK!” 

Deaf to Goku’s pleas, Beerus’ hands turned a fiery scarlet as a sulfurous stench enshrouded him, the world around him dissolving into a cacophony of voices. Oceans of draconic screams washed over the disgraced Hakaishin, who opened his bloodshot eyes, their minute pupils hatefully fixed upon the Saiyan at the same time his maw foamed a bloodshot white.

“DO IT, YOU LITTLE FUCKUP! HURRY UP AND DO IT!”

“Lord Beerus!”

“GET IT RIGHT, YOU FUCKING MISFIRE! GET IT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

“Lord Beerus, stop!”

“YOU. ARE. NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! YOUR MOTHER SHOULD NEVER HAVE GIVEN BIRTH TO YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME!? DO YOU HEAR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?”

Son Goku, one among the greatest living warriors in the history of the Multiverse, one of five surviving members of the once proud Saiyan race from the defunct Planet Vegeta on Universe 7, found himself paralyzed by fear for the first time in years. The wheelchair-bound being before him looked and sounded like former God of Destruction Beerus, but the things coming out of his mouth belonged to someone (or something) the Saiyan was in no hurry to meet. 

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! _YOUR_ FAULT! SHE’S GONE AND SHE’S NEVER COMING BACK BECAUSE OF **YOU**, OKOCIM LECH-SA!”

“LORD BEERUS! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

Goku grabbed Okocim by the shoulders, shook him as hard-yet-gently as possible. At long last, the cat man blinked rapidly, groaning his way back to the waking world.

“Ow... G-Goku? W-Where am I? W-What… What’s going on?”

“That’s what _I_ wanna know! Just… Just look at yourself, man! Your hands…”

Panting heavily, Okocim wiped the foam from his mouth and beheld his scarlet-drenched palms. His teary eyes stung as every other part of his body throbbed and burned, leaving him no better off than the previous day. No… the pain and injuries following his undeification were a fart in the wind compared to what he felt now.

“I… I… I was trying to channel ki, then I… I blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that. What the hell happened?”

“You… You said things I’d rather not repeat, Lord Beerus. I mean, I’ve seen you angry before, but _this_? I don’t know…”

(_Beerus glowers_). “You don’t know _what_?”

“Well…”

(_Beerus bares his fangs_). “Quit pussyfooting around and tell me!”

“Look, it was weird, alright?”

“Really? _That’s_ the best you can come with? [_Note to self: get this guy a Thesaurus for his birthday_].”

“Look, I don’t know what else to say, ok!? You were insulting somebody named Okay-zinc…”

(_Beerus’ ears stand in attention, sweats profusely_). “O-Okay-zinc”? D-Did you mean “Okocim” by any chance?"

“Yeah. Is that somebody you know?”

Okocim stared at Goku like he was lost in space, uneasily dried his sweat with a shirt sleeve. The cat man shook his head, somehow managed to hold back a stream of tears.

“I… I’d rather not say, Goku. Let’s… Let’s just continue the lesson, shall we?”

“Ok. Just… try to stay calm, ok? Getting angry won’t solve anything.”

“I’ll try.”

_Capsule Corp, later that afternoon…_

“I’m tellin’ you, it was weird! One moment Beerus is angry, the next he’s callin’ himself names like he’s talking to somebody else! And get this: he says he doesn’t remember any of it, not even when he called himself… Ok… Oak… Okeydokey… something like that. I’m really worried about him, Bulma. He needs help, but he doesn’t wanna…”

Bulma gazed at Beerus from her penthouse window. The former god sat by the side of the Briefs’ swimming pool, lost in thought. The president of Capsule Corp then turned her gaze to the man she’d known for years now. Plenty of times she’d seen Goku happy, angry, sad, even scared, but never at such a loss for words.

“I’ll talk to him. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Bulma.” (_Frowns_). “I bet they won’t be happy when… y’know.”

“Was it _that_ bad?”

“Beerus is having trouble learning ki control. We’re done for if he can’t figure that out. I wish I could do something about it, but…”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Goku. You’re doing your best with what you’ve got. You’re a fighter, not a miracle worker.”

“I know. Guess I’d better go.” (_Ponders briefly_). “Hey, maybe I should ask…”

Goku Instant-Transmitted out of Capsule Corp. Bulma then headed to the pool area. By that time a forlorn Okocim soaked his feet in the water. Staring at nothing, the feline sighed, barely spared a glance.

“Hey.”

“Hi. How you doin’? So how was your day?”

“Y'know, the usual.”

“Glad t’see _somebody_’s doing good…”

“Goku told me about today…”

“Didn’t do it on purpose. Something… something snapped. Dunno how else to explain it.”

(_Bulma sits next to him_). “I’m not accusing you of anything, Beerus. Goku and I want to help you, but you gotta be patient with us… with yourself…”

“Don’t take a genius to know that.”

“Goku also said you called yourself a name.”

“From what I gather, I called myself plenty of names.”

“I think it was… Oak… Oakey…”

“Okocim. Okocim Lech-Sa, to be precise. You wanna know where it comes from, what it means, that sorta thing, don’t you?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t wanna pry.”

“It’s ok.” (_Lifts his left leg so that the knee touches his chest and his chin rests on top of it_). “Okocim” is what my parents named me when I was born. Dunno what it means, though. Knowing Mother and Father, it most likely belonged to an ancestor. For that matter, “Lech” is my father’s given name, and “Sa” means “son” in my native language.”

“Son of Lech.” 

Okocim nodded. At least one person in this universe used their head for purposes other than hair growth. Then again, _he_ didn’t have much of a right to boast, either. There he was, a fallen Hakaishin, not a cent in his pockets, living off the kindness of… strangers? Not quite, but not exactly friends, either. “Lackeys of the unwilling type”? An indelicate term, for sure, but certainly more accurate. Seriously, what was it with these people? Why were they being so kind to him after… well, everything? Guess Goku wasn’t the only one who took a blow to the head...

“While we’re at it, Champa’s birthname is Lanson Brulle-Sa, “Brulle” being our mother’s given name. Lech Blanton-Sa, my father, he belonged to the Noble and Distinguished House of Artois from Planet Sekhmet on Universe 11, whereas Brulle Féverte-Se (means “daughter of Féverte,” by the way) belonged to the Noble and Distinguished House of Marnier from Planet Dawon on Universe 2.”

“You have a patronymic. Champa has a matronymic.”

(_Okocim turns to Bulma_). “Come again?”

“You have a last name based on your father’s given name, while Champa has one based on your mother’s. If I had to guess, House Marnier is matriarchal, and House Artois patriarchal. That about right?” (_Okocim passively nods_). “Why do your brother and you have different last names? I thought you were twins.”

“We are. Different houses, different customs, ‘s all. Mother raised Champa in Universe 6, while Father did the same to me here in Universe 7.”

“_To _you?”

Okocim looked over the horizon. Though a miasma of remembrance darkened his mind’s eye, the Sphygian had little trouble maintaining his composure around his benefactor. Even so, such newfound aplomb could only last for so long before things fell apart yet again. Nothing a bit of deflection couldn’t cure.

“When a candidate for God of Destruction ascended, he or she would take the name of a predecessor, usually one who held office centuries before. Blanton, my grandfather on my father’s side, he took the name “Lager,” Father took the name “Tusker,” Mother took the name “Afsnath,” and me and Lanson became “Beerus” and “Champa.” Once you picked your name, it stuck with you even after you ceded the title, so my parents and my brother were always Tusker, Afsnath, and Champa. It’s been so long since I last used their birthnames, I guess I just forgot about ‘em. Hell, it’s been fucking ages since I recalled mine. Pardon my language.”

“I see. Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Bulma and the feline kept quiet for a couple of minutes. The Earthling couldn’t recognize the figure seated next to her. Beerus… no, Okocim, seemed like a down-to-Earth kinda guy, the complete opposite of the irascible, skittish, high-strung, uptight, gluttonous, callous, sanctimonious, selfish jerkass who crashed her birthday party and almost destroyed Earth, whom she, her friends and family had learned to… love? No. More like mutually tolerate, in the sense that the Destroyer allowed their ephemeral existence, long as they did whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Meanwhile, Lord Beerus proved himself reasonable, even somewhat amiable, at least some of the time. Still, Vegeta, Raditz, Nappa, Cell/21, Piccolo, Buu, he’d made all of them look like puppies, even at their worst.

Though Beerus had mellowed out since then, he still had the power and inclination to reduce this planet, not to mention the entire Universe, to a lifeless cinder in a moment’s notice. All it would take was to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong place and at the wrong time, such as interrupting his “me” time, refusing his requests, no matter how (un)reasonable, or just rubbing him the wrong way. Therefore, it was imperative to keep him happy at all costs. What was a few hundred thousand zenni in overpriced food compared to the privilege of living in this universe Goku and friends had sacrificed, bled, even died for more times than anyone cared to count?

And now _this_ happened. God of Destruction Beerus, the volatile kitty-cat her baby daughter had inexplicably taken a shine to, suddenly lost everything that made him hated and feared throughout the Multiverse. In his place stood Okocim, son of Lech, a mild-mannered fellow with depressive tendencies, who looked rather uncomfortable in his own skin. 

Speaking of skin, Bulma noted something off about the cat man’s fur. Was it… losing color? Surely there had to be a logical explanation for that and yesterday’s events. In the meantime, however… 

“Vegeta’s cooking dinner tonight. You must be starving.”

“Not really.”

“You have to eat, Beerus. You can’t expect to recover otherwise. Which reminds me: did Goku…”

“He gave me lunch. Hunted it for me. If I’d known roasted dinosaur tasted that good, I wouldn’t have…” (_Sighs, frowns_). “I’m tired, Bulma. I… I feel like shit. I just wanna hit the sack, hope I’ll wake up back home tomorrow." (_Stares at his opened hands_). "This… this feels so… so… unreal.”

(_Briefly takes Okocim’s hand_). “It’s ok. Take things one day at a time. Try to live in the here and now. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

(_Smiles_). “Thanks.” (_Yawns loudly, his stomach rumbles ever so slightly_). “Well, whaddya know? I _am_ kinda hungry. Hopefully His Majesty has warmed up to me by now.”

Bulma chuckled, helped Okocim into his wheelchair. A bit of mirth would certainly lift the feline’s spirits. Though this wouldn’t make his problems go away (especially if her suspicions held true), a respite, however brief, would do everybody a world of good.

“We’ll see about that.”


	3. Destroyers from the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the antagonists and their latest victims. 
> 
> Special thanks to Tatara94 (https://www.deviantart.com/tatara94) and Mate397 (https://www.deviantart.com/mate397).
> 
> Lord Mate: https://www.deviantart.com/tatara94/art/Mate-the-God-of-Destruction-C-784214964

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences **

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 3: Destroyers from the Void

_The Void Realm…_

Within a ruined palace illuminated by sparse torchlight, the massive doors to a great hall opened, letting in an anthropomorphic cobra man who carried a chained, barely conscious figure on his back. In front of the new arrival stood a set of crumbling stairs leading to an imposing throne occupied by a draconic humanoid dressed in a Hakaishin’s garb. Tired of staring at the sheathed katana to his right, the dragon man turned to the seat to his left, occupied by a rusty-mahogany colored Attendant clad in a Byzantine _klivanion_[1], an obsidian-colored tunic, and aquamarine-hued greaves. Distracted by two platinum-hued halos suspended around his neck, the latter fellow scratched the top of his balding head, his flame-tinged eyes appraising the serpent. The figure to the right did not spare so much as a glance to either side.

“Is something the matter, Beinwell? Thou art rather quiet[2].”

“There is naught to talk about, Lord Mate. Naught to look forward to[3].”

Mate turned to Beinwell with a sorrowful look. Paying little attention to the dragon man, the Attendant sighed his ennui away.

“Art thou truly so downcast, Ancient Master? Will nothing elevate thy spirits?”

“To watch thee humiliate yet another prisoner shan’t remedy mine predicament.”

(_Solemn Mate is solemn_). “I swore a Holy Vow, one I intend to fulfill.”

(_Deadpan Beinwell is deadpan_). “Oaths art null herein. Why cling to them if thou art bound no longer?”

“Bushido demands it. Well do I remember these lessons from mine youth.”

“Of all lessons, thou doth harp on this one. Indeed mine eons play me for a fool.”

(_Mate smiles kindly_). “Trouble not thyself, Wise One. Our victory and reckoning are at hand.” (_His tone and expression turn sour_). “Here comes mine kinsman Lord Caron with another means to achieve it.”

Caron bowed to the best of his ability, barely stopped himself from hissing his contempt out loud. The cobra man had a role to play. Everything hinged on how well he did so.

“Hail, Lord Mate, Sir Beinwell! Grand Numen, as per thine ord’nance, I bring forth our latest prisoner: God of Destruction Geene, from the Twelfth Universe[4].”

With that, the deity casually dropped the vanquished, groaning Hakaishin. Mate and Beinwell left their seats and floated to the new arrivals. The katana stayed put, slumbering within short-lived intervals of noise which briefly upset the deafening silence. It took but a superficial look to realize the prisoner was severely injured. Mate seethed with rage. He burned to chastise such contumely, and yet…

“What means this, 血の牙 テジャバ (Chinokiba Dhejava[5])!? I specifically forbade violence against our fellow gods!”

(_Caron swallows hard_). “‘Twas onerous to subdue him, m-m-mine Lord. I h-h-humbly beg thy pardon.”

“Mine pardon!? Thou art fortunate he draws breath!”

Geene cautiously eyed the hitherto confident reptile. Caron towered above Mate and Beinwell at seven-foot-two. Exuding bloodlust through every pore, the serpent’s wound and dust-soiled opaque red, blue and green scales highlighted an empire of scars spread across the face, back, chest, and both sets of limbs throughout an artfully carved, tattooed torso, arms, and legs from the kneecaps all the way to the bare tridactyl feet, all of it visible through the gaps in Caron’s tattered uniform. 

Already ruptured on the left side, the right side of the cobra man’s hood was torn in several places, retaining a single platinum stud around its middle tip. His only remaining eye colored lavender, the right one had been reduced to a scarlet blotch during his fight with Geene back in Universe 12, similar to the heavily mutilated serpentine tail barely holding on to its stump. Two out of three fingers from the snake deity’s left hand seemed broken, the right one rendered altogether useless. Mate and Beinwell also noticed signs of internal bleeding in several areas around the serpent and the fishman’s ribcage, arms and legs.

(_Mate growls contemptuously_). “He must be a formidable warrior to have injur’d thee so… kinsman.”

(_Beinwell smiles cheekily_). “One can only hope he is worthy, unlike the mongrels thy sister vanquished, mine Lord. ‘Tis shame they acquitted themselves so poorly ‘gainst Lady Chifir. Verily she deserves better opponents.”

“Indeed. ‘Tis pity the All-Sovereign’s standards should wax so poor.”

Caron chirped a hiss-like laugh, much to Geene’s unabashed disgust, Mate’s overall displeasure, and Beinwell’s wry indifference. The deity of Universe 12 was counting the minutes, longing to rip out Caron’s innards and shove them down his throat, yet not even that punishment would do, considering the atrocities the damn snake perpetrated back at his home universe. Mate’s heaven-sundering roar brought him back to here and now.

“Respect! I shan’t abide mockery of our fellow Lords!” (_Switches to Nahuatl, turns to Caron_). “{Thou disregarded mine orders, scion of Allpa! The blood of mine guest stains thy hands! Thou ravaged planets, extinguished myriad lives! Did mine father teach thee nothing!?[6]}.”

“{B-But I…}”

Caron literally quaked in his nonexistent boots. Beinwell thought fast. Diverting the Grand Numen’s wrath was of utmost importance.

“Where is Chifir-sama? Hath she not intelligence to impart? For that matter, I was led to believe Lahpeth-sama would deliver the Hakaishin from the Fifth Universe.”

Caron took the hint. His visage warped in fear, the reptile man solemnly bowed. Geene felt rather uneasy himself, for some reason.

“O-O-Our fellows b-b-beg thy pardon, G-G-Grand N-Numen. A-A-As we speak Lady Chifir does corroborate knowledge gleaned by our spies. As for Lord Lahpeth, he aids Ko—Lord Masala in caring for our wounded. He shall meet ye with the Calamantian from the Fifth posthaste.”

Mate forced himself to relax. Losing his temper would get him nowhere. Reducing Caron to a scaly punching bag, as he had done countless times throughout the eons, was also out of the question. 

Sighing himself into makeshift serenity, the dragon man turned to examine the prisoner. His uniform utterly ruined, the cloth around his neck conspicuously absent, Geene was covered in wounds of varying gravity, including chemical burns, broken bones, and pulled ligaments. His countenance tinted a blotchy, sickly gray, both eyes half-shut under hematomas, the Hakaishin literally cried tears of blood as he concealed a suppurating stump where his left forearm once was, the fins on his head worn to near extinction. 

The dragon god also noticed a series of deep, stripe-like scratches across the fish deity’s back, along with two bite marks between the right side of the neck and shoulder, the adjacent areas colored a death-like black which had spread to most of the Destroyer’s upper body. Mate made up his mind: the scion of Allpa had gone too far and… no. First things first.

“Beinwell!” 

Thus beckoned, the Attendant unsheathed his _paramerion_[7] and touched the bite marks with its tip. Swallowed by gentle light, Geene looked at himself after it faded: his wounds had been completely healed, there was no sign of the black stain, his lost arm and eroded fins had somehow grown back and regained their health by the time Mate crouched to his height. 

“Caron envenom’d thee?” 

Geene nodded. The dragon man growled, flashing several rows of sharp teeth as a panicked Caron frantically looked left and right, searching for a rock under which to crawl for the next couple of centuries.

“I-I did what I deem'd best, Lord Mate! H-H-He wouldn't yield and…”

Mate decked Caron with an adamantine punch, which sent the reptile flying into an adjacent wall, much to Geene’s and Beinwell’s delight. The already ruined wall was nearly obliterated upon impact. Nary a stone remained whole when the smoke cleared. 

Beinwell casually approached Geene with an appraising look. Though his expression betrayed curiosity, the Attendant otherwise seemed little invested in all that transpired. 

“It appears a Kualuan hath fallen into our nets. Hast thou found a worthy rival, Lord Caron?[8]” 

A coughing Caron emerged from the rubble. After spitting out several bloody teeth, the snake man calmly dusted himself off with hiss-like laughter, none the worse for wear after the Grand Numen’s outburst.

“Nay. He shan’t be thus once Mate-sama salts him.” (_Leers at Geene_). “{‘Tis pity he’s not mortal. I should like to know him}.” (_Mate growls menacingly_). “A-A-Apologies, mine Lord! I-I-I spake but for mine ears!”

“I bid thee welcome, Geene-sama.”

The Grand Numen solemnly bowed, having helped Geene get back on his feet. Regardless, the Kualuan was in no mood to exchange pleasantries, his bloodthirsty eyes fixed upon the Grand Numen as he spitefully bared his fangs at Mate, who had straightened himself by the time Beinwell approached their latest guest.

“Who the fuck’re you!? Where’s Arak!?”

(_Beinwell is not amused_). “Guard thy tongue! Thou speakest to Grand Numen Lord Mate XXI, son of Terer, of the Most Eminent and Royal House of Ophion.”

Geene took a closer look. Mate stood around six-foot-six, had a rounded snout crowned by prominent ridges over black-tinted eyes; his brow crowned with rather unimpressive horns, the dragon deity’s sleek, pointy ears were ever sensitive to what little sound reverberated throughout the Void, dead silence enshrouding his hair, itself tinted a metallic light pinkish hue. The dark-green scales on his arms and tail were accentuated by red stripes of varying width and length, all of it complimented by ochre beginning at the neck and ending perhaps somewhere the Kualuan didn’t care to see. 

As part of his otherwise simple uniform, the Grand Numen wore a shirt bearing a sizable _mon_**[9]** insignia at the center. It featured a five-pointed cherry blossom set within a white circle against a black background, the flower’s center bearing four Eastern dragons facing north, south, east and west in a pinwheel pattern. There was little else remarkable about the dragon man’s indumentary, save that it was quite worn. Perhaps it had existed for thousands of years, much like the carved white nacre-like armband on Mate’s right wrist. 

“I won’t ask again. Where’s Arak?”

(_Caron grins maliciously_). “Bite back thy spleen, boy.” (_Licks his nonexistent lips_). “{Shan’t be long ere thou sweeten mine sheets}.”

(_Mate grumbles_). “{That will be all, Caron}.” 

“{If it please thee, Lord Mate, I should like to…}.” 

Mate’s deafening roar resounded throughout the palace, the Void’s ethereal silence shattered for the first time in veritable eons. Knowing he stood no chance against the Grand Numen, Caron hastily bowed, muttered something in Nahuatl, and quit the throne room without further incident.

(_Mate bows anew_). “Please accept mine apologies, Geene-sama. Mine kinsman shan’t…” 

“Don’t change the subject, lizard.” 

Beinwell could only scoff. Such insolence, from yet another pathetic excuse for a deity! Caron was right: the All-Sovereign had grown careless, even complacent. The fact he had chosen such unworthy vassals was undeniable proof.

Mate flashed a disapproving glare at Beinwell after setting himself straight. His Attendant and teacher tended to be a little too generous when it came to giving tongue to his thoughts. Even so, he couldn’t recall a single instance of Beinwell disrespecting him, his father, sister, or his fellow Numina. Lesser deities and mortals, however...

“Geene!” 

The Hakaishin from Universe 12 turned. Behind him, a chained Arak entered the throne room, guided by the mysterious figure holding his bindings. There was something off about these so-called Destroyers from the Abyss. Geene had little desire to find out what. The Omni-King and Grand Priest at their worst never inspired such dread, such revulsion, such…

Arak (_telepathically_): “[_Are you alright?_].”

Geene (_ditto_): “[_Just peachy. What about you?_].”

Arak: “[_I’ll live. Any sign of the others?_].”

Geene: “[_I can’t pick up their ki. Too many energy signatures around, enormous ones_].”

Arak: “[_I’ve never sensed this kind of ki before. It’s like God ki and Energy of Destruction rolled into one, but also different_].”

Geene (_determined_): “[_Ready when you are. Just say the word and…_].”

Arak (_alarmed_): “[_Are you insane!? Those people outside are stronger than us! **These** three are in a league of their own!_].” (_Calms_ _down_). “[_We need a plan, Geene. We can’t just fight our way out of this one_].”

Geene: “[_I’ll get back to you on that… if we survive_].”

(_Beinwell stares appraisingly_). “A Calamantian. ‘Tis been ages since we last saw their ilk, mine Lord.” (_Turns to Arak’s minder_). “It gladdens me to see deities make good on their promises, Lord Lahpeth.”

(_Arak’s minder speaks Japanese, bows_). “{Hail, Meito-sama, Beinueru-sama. As per thy mandate, I have apprehended Zumotto-aru-Masaya from the Fifth Universe[10]}.”

“{Respect, Rahpetho-sama. Address our fellow god as due[11]}.” (_Gives Beinwell the stink-eye_).

Arak took a cautious look. Standing some eight feet tall, Lahpeth was clad in severely scratched samurai armor. The latter bore a diagonal sash hanging from the right shoulder, and a stole not all that different from the ones Gods of Destruction wore, both embroidered with symbols the captive deities couldn’t recognize. Arak hadn’t a clue what his vanquisher’s visage looked like on account of the heavily dented _kabuto _helmet and metallic visor-slash-snouted mask covering it, but thought it safe to infer this warrior wasn’t of humanoid extraction. 

Lahpeth returned Arak’s stare. The Hakaishin from Universe 5 turned away in the nick of time. Arak didn’t dare look into his minder’s reddish-orange eyes for the same reason he avoided the glare of Lahpeth’s fellow deities. 

Arak (_telepathically_): “[_Must take quite a bit of restraint for them not to rend us limb from limb…_].”

Geene: “[_You don’t say?_].”

“{Your pardon, mine Lords}.” (_Lahpeth sees Geene_). “I see Kyaron-sama’s quest met with triumph. Honoured to acquaint thee, Jīne-sama of the Twelfth Universe[12].” 

The samurai god bowed. A puzzled Geene turned to a flabbergasted Arak, who merely shrugged. Lahpeth handed Arak’s chains to a sardonic Beinwell, then turned towards Mate. 

“{Grand Numen, if I may, Masara-sama has much work to do. He requires aid e’en if he dares not request it. Please summon forth thy servant if thou hast further need of him}.”

Mate smiled kindly. From what Geene surmised, Mate and Lahpeth had an amicable relationship, at the very least. Not that he cared: the sooner he and Arak punched their smug faces in, the better.

“{Thou needn’t abase thyself, Beloved Mentor. Aid mine brother any way thou can}.” 

Lahpeth bowed, took his leave. Mate did the same in front of the captive Hakaishin.

“I bid ye welcome, fellow deities. Kindly forgive mine subjects their transgressions. Lord Caron laid waste to the Twelfth Universe in defiance of mine edict. The others, however, acted upon mine hest.”

Arak and Geene approached Mate. Both Hakaishin seethed with Energy of Destruction. 

“What have you done to the others?”

(_Beinwell grins jokingly_). “Trouble not thyself, mine Lord. Thy fellow ex-deities from the Second, Third and Eleventh Universes sojourn herein.”

Arak stared daggers into the interloper. Such impudence from… an Angel? No. This fellow was something else entirely. His ki was different from Cukatail’s or any other Attendant the Hakaishin from Universe 5 knew. In fact, Arak was convinced this being could break Cukatail and his siblings, even the Grand Priest himself, in half just by looking at them funny, if that incommensurable energy signature was anything to go by. 

“Your superior has a tongue, Attendant. Now would be a good time to use it.”

“Please withhold thine empty threats. Furthermore, I sense thou hast a most pressing query, so I shall set thee at ease. I am no Angel. I am above Angels. ‘Tis shame the All-Sovereign and Daishinkan learnt thee not the celestial hierarchy.”

“‘Above Angels’”? That makes you what, an Archangel?”

“Verily thine insight doth exceed thy years, mine Lord.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

(_Mate solemnly sighs_). “Respect, Beinwell.”

“Apologies, Grand Numen. Shall I bring the former Lords before thee?”

“No. They hath exceeding suffer’d.”

(_Troubled Geene is..._). “Why did you call them “ex-deities”?”

(_Expressionless Beinwell is…_). “They are deities no longer.”

Barely masking his dread, a stone-faced Arak approached Mate and Beinwell. Neither one of them bothered to stop him.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“The crime is real, and I the perpetrator.”

Geene buried his fingernails in his palms. It all came back to him: the prickling sensation, the disgust-slash-satisfaction of seeing and hearing his own blood fall to the ground in droplets, the morbid desire of watching the little blots clot, half-expecting at least one of them to turn into crystal instead of drying up altogether. Still, the fish deity pushed on.

“You’re lying.”

Mate blinked, retreated into his thoughts. Barely a second afterwards, he turned to Beinwell and spoke Japanese.

“{Lend me thy sword, Wise One}.” 

Beinwell unsheathed his _paramerion _and handed it to Mate. Geene and Arak drew back. The dragon man knelt and sank the blade’s tip into his stomach without a second thought, barely wincing as his guests watched, their mouths agape. The Grand Numen then plunged it all the way through his abdomen, maintained groaning to an astonishing minimum till the point tore all the way through his lower back. Geene stared in utter disbelief, barely masking his flinching as Arak motioned to speak, but could only remain in stupefied silence while the dragon god smiled with aristocratic aplomb.

“Fear not. Deceit or falsehood I cannot utter whilst this holy ore grips mine flesh.”

Arak (_telepathically_): “[_Ok, this guy’s **definitely** insane…_].”

Geene (_ditto_): “[_Preachin’ to the choir here. Any suggestions?_].”

Arak: “[_What’re you asking **me** for? Didn’t Bonak and Martinu teach you strategy?_].”

Geene (_pissed off_): “[_Sorry. Must’ve slept in the day they taught that class on what to do when you get kidnapped even though you’re, oh I dunno, a freaking Destroyer God! ‘Sides, you’ve always been the guy with the ideas. That’s how it worked when Lord Bonak was around. “When you have exhausted all other options, take the diplomatic approach,” he used to say_].”

Arak: “[_That won’t get us anywhere now. We have to…_”].”

Beinwell (_sardonic_): “[_Engaged in witty banter, mine Lords?_].”

Geene and Arak screamed and jumped back. The spooked deities caught their breath while Mate rebuked his Attendant in irate Japanese, then solemnly turned to the pair.

“I and mine are 削除神 (_Sakujoshin_), Numina of Deletion, predecessors of what ye term “Gods of Destruction.” We hail from Universes One through Eighteen. I mine-self hail from Planet Matsura of the First Universe and was assigned the role of 支配神 (_Shihaishin_) or Governing Deity to the Fourteenth Universe, attaining the title of 削除の大神 (_Sakujo no ōgami_), that is, Grand Deity of Deletion, several eons later.”

(_Skeptical Arak_ _is..._). “Impossible. Grand Zen-Oh deleted all traces of the Lost Universes eons ago.”

“The All-Sovereign deemed it fit to imprison us in this Realm of Void long before that. Mine father, Shihaishin Terer, son of Guayaki, fell during the final assault of the King of All, as did mine liege, Daimyo Atsushi Daisuke. For eons mine fellow Numina and countless others have endured unwarranted torment for the caprice of an all-slaughtering infant.”

Geene nearly exploded with anger. This farce had gone far enough. No way would he let it continue.

“How dare you blaspheme Grand Zen-Oh!? He has erased whole universes for less than that!”

(_Mate chuckles bitterly_)_. _“Ye know the All-Sovereign purges lives unaccountable on mere whim, and still flock to his banner...”

Arak was not amused. His stern eyes boring down on Mate, the Calamantian probed the dragon god’s frame, but found no weakness to exploit.

“Quit stalling. Tell us what you’ve done with the other Destroyers, while we’re still in control of our temper.”

A hitherto bored Beinwell smiled wryly. The Shihaishin steeled himself, anticipating whatever tasteless levity the Archangel was cooking up in that otherworldly mind of his.

“Lest memory deceive me, not long ago ye feared your universes would be… effaced as per the Tournament of Power. Am I mistaken, mine Lords?” 

Geene and Arak held their peace. Outmatched as they were, neither Hakaishin deigned humor the Attendant, who then flashed a rather baleful smile.

“Face it. Your existence is as inconsequential to the Ruler Beyond Time and Space as the passing of a tick. Well could ye be here one moment, gone the next. Naught amiss would he perceive. Why, I do believe he would seize upon your absence to amuse himself, having myriads sing his praises e’en as he purges them. Fortunately, however, the All-Sovereign overestimates his puissance...”

(_Geene yawns impudently_). “Is there a point to all this crap you’re talking?”

(_Beinwell scoffs_). “[_So the little fish has some bite after all. Lord Mate shall learn thee thy place soon enough…_].”

Mate gazed up at the Destroyers from the Fifth and Twelfth Universes, knowing what awaited them should he fail to win them over. Having smothered dread in aristocratic self-possession, the eyes of the Shihaishin met the pair’s. It was now or never.

“Geene-sama, the All-Sovereign is nowhere near as omniscient or omnipotent as he doth make believe. The fact that Beinwell, mine-self, our co-religionaries, countless other beings linger herein is proof enough. Now before ye make further inquiries, allow one of mine own: what happens to something or someone purg’d by the All-Sovereign?”

An annoyed Geene gesticulated accordingly. Genocide and kidnapping were one thing, but to insult their intelligence…

“Fuck kinda question is that!? They cease to exist! Gone, bye-bye, adios, see you never! That’s why it’s called “erasure”!”

“Allow me to dispel thine ignorance. The universes the All-Sovereign purged during the Tournament of Power were not so much erased as placed into stasis. The Ruler of Space-Time abolished their inhabitance within the physical realm rather than destroy them outright, same as he did with Universes Thirteenth through Eighteenth, only their “erasure” far outlasted that of the Second, Third, Fourth, Sixth, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh.”

“They were there one second, gone the next. Doesn’t matter what you call it.”

“It does, mine Lord. That much I can assure thee.”

(_Geene rolls his eyes_). “[_Potato, potahto…_].”

For his part, Arak pondered briefly. Mate’s claims utterly disputed his received ancient knowledge of the Multiverse’s inner workings. Damn reptile was insane. He had to be. 

“[_If this is Zen-Oh’s idea of a prank, he got it right. **Way **too right…_]. If you guys belong to the Lost Universes and the Omni-King “purged” you along with them, as you say, then you should’ve been brought back when that warrior from Universe 7 wished for all erased universes to be restored. Nothing in the wish indicated only those universes lost during the Tournament itself would be affected, so it’s safe to assume Universes 13 through 18 were restored as well. If _you_ weren’t, then that means…”

“‘Twas no erasure we suffer’d.”

Geene didn’t know what to make of this, and he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was pound that prissy prick Beinwell into paste, break Mate’s neck, and hang that stuck-up head of his along with the Archangel’s and his sword on Bonak’s old trophy wall. 

Once Arak and the other Destroyers were out of danger, he’d find Caron and make him pay for the devastation he brought upon Universe 12. Oh, what fun Geene would have, the serpent’s excruciating screams making such delightful music, till the hooded asshole at last kicked off his mortal coil and was remitted to Hell for some well-deserved eternal torment. 

The Hakaishin would then visit his universe’s Planet Namek and <strike>bully</strike> persuade its Elders to lend him their Wishing Spheres. There was no reason why they should refuse Geene, as his wish was more than virtuous: he intended to bring back all beings who were killed in the Void Realm’s invasion, especially his Agents of Destruction. The best warriors of Universe 12, countless people, animals, massacred in seconds! Caron... son of a bitch even laid hands on Martinu! Geene would never forgive himself if she…

What about Ag? He must still be alive, if the life link the Destroyer shared with his universe’s Supreme Kai was to be believed. 

Geene sweated profusely. The thought of Caron breaking into the Sacred World of the Kais, killing everyone in his path, reaching Ag, grabbing the sweet little guy’s head with both hands, sinking his thumbs into his beady little eyes and popping them like grapes, laughing like the devil made flesh he was as he crushed Ag’s skull like a rotten egg, poor Ag screaming his last few seconds of life away… no! He’d never let that happen! 

Geene and Caron would finish what they started right there and then. The Kualuan would emerge triumphant; he would then claim the Spheres, even if he had to pry them from the Namekians’ cold, dead hands. He’d put up with those self-important slugs and their bullshit for far too long, anyway. Who were they to say no to _him_, God of Destruction Geene, who’d saved their universe, including their collective asses, more times than even the Omni-King himself could count!? They had no right to tell him what he could and couldn’t wish for, let alone deny him what was rightfully his! 

Anyhow, the power of Nunu the Divine Sea Dragon was enough to encompass all of Universe 12. The Kualuan could wish the countless dead back to life, including_ her_. If she came back, then maybe _he _would, too, and they could… but enough about that. Geene had a question, and Mate better have the answer.

“Where do we come in on all this?”

“Any being may enter the Void Realm freely, but only those possessing power greater than a Numen of Deletion may leave it permanently.”

“Permanently?”

“Aye, Arak-sama. I and mine can return to the outside realm but for a day, perhaps two. Should we tarry beyond, we shall fade from existence altogether.” (_Sighs sadly_). “Such knowledge cost us beloved friends and kin. Thus far we know but one way to achieve permanent return, through a ritual passed down within mine family for generations.”

(_Skeptical Geene is skeptical_). “You could’ve escaped at any time, and you waited until _now_?”

“Not by choice. The ritual is called 復活の聖歌 (_Fukkatsu no seika_), or Chant of Resurgence. The spell must be uttered by at least one Numen of Deletion. By transferring the entirety of a Numen’s Shinsen Might and Chaos Dynamis into one or various beings, such are thus infused with power beyond even the All-Sovereign’s. Thereafter, they may cross into the physical realm through fissures within the Void and remain therein. However, the ritual utterly depletes the caster’s ki pool. Death is a risk, undeification a certainty.”

(_Geene smiles scornfully_). “Nice plan and all, but you forgot an important detail: only Zen-Oh himself can grant or withdraw God ki.” 

Arak nearly facepalmed. What a pathetic excuse for deceit! Bonak at his worst could've unraveled such a lie without effort. Hell, even a newborn could see right through it. Beinwell was less than impressed himself.

“Thou liest. Poorly. It appears our successor deities and attendants are become generous in our absence, as they grant Chaos Dynamis (or a lesser version of it) to every whoreson and their mistress. That despicable whelp and his train of sycophants have so forgotten their place, they allow mortals to share freely in the patrimony of the gods.”

Arak sweated nervously. He couldn't believe his eyes and ears. Countless eons of lore and knowledge, trampled upon, rendered useless in an instant! If what the Destroyer knew was no longer reliable, he wouldn't be able to…

“You miscalculated big time, Mate. If you are telling the truth and there are billions of beings trapped here, you won’t have enough casters or energy to send them all back.”

“That is why we have need of ye. Adding your energies to ours will increase the chant’s power and thereby encompass all entrapped herein.”

“It still won’t be enough.”

Mate sweated briefly. He wanted to spill his guts out, to be done with it, even if doing so meant he would forevermore cease to exist. This… this was wrong. What did they intend to accomplish?

“We have found a way to correct such dearth, one I shan’t disclose for the present. E’en in the Realm of Void there are edicts which may not be trespassed with impunity. I shall say no more.”

(_Arak scowls_). “How convenient.”

“Well do I know your integrity, mine Lords. I shan’t insult ye by offering you a place among us.”

(_Contemptuous Geene is…_). “You’re smarter than you look, lizard lips.”

“Therefore, I propose a wager. I shall undo your bindings and have Beinwell restore ye to full strength that you and I may battle. If you defeat me, I shall put mine godhood to death, enacting the ritual to return ye and thy fellow Lords to the physical realm; naught else shalt I demand of you. Beside allowing ye inhabitance therein, the ritual shall undo the undeification of Lords Vermoud, Mule and Jerez, increase your own power over a quintillion fold. However, should I prevail, I shall claim your Energy of Destruction and God ki, and ye shall remain mine honoured guests till the appointed time. Irrespective of outcome, no further harm shall come to ye and yours. Thus I swear.” 

Having stood up, Mate removed the sword from his stomach and returned it to Beinwell, who then produced a piece of cloth and cleaned off his charge’s blood like so much rust. Like Geene, Arak was almost too stunned to speak. 

“Why should we trust you to keep your word?”

“Deceit does not become a Numen, Arak-sama. Accept ye these terms?” 

(_Suspicious Geene is…_). “Acceptance implies one has a choice.”

“Ye have one now, more than what your King of All allowed us.”

Geene (_telepathically_): “[_I see no other way out, Arak_].”

Arak (_ditto_): “[_Me neither_]. We accept your terms, Mate.”

After removing his shoes, shirt and stole and handing them to Beinwell, Mate looks intently upon his prisoners’ chains. Geene and Arak find themselves submerged in all too familiar mirific dread. The dragon god’s eyes glow a deep crimson, after which he nods a single time. The chains binding the Destroyers disintegrate into short-lived light particles. Once Beinwell restores them to full health, both Hakaishin nod to each other and strike fighting poses. There’s only one way to properly begin this fight. 

“HAKAI!”

Their open hands still smoking, two gigantic spheres of destructive energy speed towards Mate, who barely acknowledges their existence as they engulf him, much to the pair’s satisfaction. However, the spheres linger for a few seconds before gradually diminishing, then disappearing into the dragon god’s body.

(_Shook Arak is shook_). “I-I-I-Impossible! H-H-He absorbed our energy!”

(_Apathetic Beinwell is apathetic_). “Gods of Destruction are become base indeed if they rely on such parlor tricks.”

(_Geene snarls_). “Parlor tricks!? This is a Destroyer’s ultimate power!”

(_A phlegmatic Beinwell yawns_). “If this be thine utmost, I dare not see thine hindmost.”

“Respect, Beinwell.” (_Mate crosses hands behind his back_). “I trust ye have more to offer?”

Geene and Arak let Mate have it. Punching, kicking, pressure strikes, energy blades, every skill Martinu and Cukatail ever taught them, infused with Energy of Destruction, all effortlessly dodged or parried. The bored dragon god strikes at the Kualuan with his tail, grabs the Calamantian, rams his countenance into his own knee. Geene shrugs off the blow and delivers the strongest punch he can muster into the reptile’s countenance, followed by another, then over five hundred more, doing little to no damage. 

Arak takes to the air and fires a five-way Finger Beam, which Geene escapes in time for it to hit Mate square in the back. The attack is beneath the Shihaishin’s notice, barely singes his flesh. Feeling cornered, the aquatic deity scratches at Mate’s eyes and throat, yet the latter dodges again. 

Tired of this farce, the Destroyer from the Void grabs one of Geene’s legs with his tail and extends his left arm towards Arak. It turns into serpentine flesh, coils around the Calamantian, constricts him tightly enough to shatter several ribs, repeatedly bashes his and Geene’s bodies face down into the floor, nearby walls, even each other, some ten thousand times in a matter of minutes before tossing them aside. 

Following a lengthy beatdown with claws, fists and kicks for a good fifteen minutes, Mate believes the battle won, goes for the final blow, yet Geene and Arak scream at the top of their lungs: a strange silvery energy blinds the Shihaishin, sends him flying fifty-five feet away into a nearby wall. By the time the dragon god gets back on his feet, his opponents shine with the same energy as a new determination seethes in their expressions.

(_Awed Mate is awed_). “[銀魂 (_Gintama…_[13])].”

Breaking the sound barrier, Geene connects over two hundred thousand punches and kicks all across Mate’s stomach and torso in mere seconds. The impacts shatter at least six ribs, sever more than a hundred tendons before tossing him to Arak, who introduces his fist to the dragon’s snout a couple hundred thousand times, costing Mate several teeth and quite a bit of blood. 

Though briefly disoriented, the Numen roars. His screams echo throughout the citadel and elsewhere in the Void Realm as a similar light swallows him and the Hakaishin are knocked back a good two-hundred feet. When it fades, they stare in utter disbelief: Mate’s scales have become the color of silver, his perpetually flowing hair glows a glossy green hue, his eyes shimmer a metallic blue as he smiles, looking forward to indulging a renewed desire for battle.

Arak (_telepathically, sweats uneasily_): “[_Is this…?_].”

Geene (_ditto_): “[_Mastered Ultra Instinct… his version of it. If you have any advice, now would be a good time to share it_].”

Arak (_resolute_): “[_Let’s take the diplomatic approach_].” 

Arak flies towards Mate; Geene follows without a word. The three gods lose themselves, become a hurricane of more than ten thousand arms, hands, legs and feet, barely visible to outsiders as afterimages. Shockwaves in their wake shake the palace ruins to their foundations, crumble several walls, columns and crenellations into nothingness. 

Arak and Geene’s faces gleam with sadistic glee. Their bodies punch, kick, sweep, dodge, parry almost on their own accord. Even then they can barely keep up with Mate, who grows at least eight hundred additional arms and just as many tails; the Shihaishin’s offense blurs into defense, his defense into offense without a second thought. The Destroyers from the Fifth and Twelfth Universes can barely see anything other than infinite fists smashing into their faces, upper bodies, and stomachs, followed by a deluge of kicks and tail swipes that shatter or bruise several bones and ligaments around their arms, legs and ribcage.

Both deities jump away from the fray. Battling his body’s desire to surrender to darkness, Geene embraces the power of Destruction; Arak follows suit. 

Unleashing his fully realized Destroyer form with a Heaven-rending roar, the Kualuan’s muscles rapidly expand; his countenance sheds most of its anthropomorphic features, assumes a more ichthyological structure. Sharp fins grow on top of Geene’s head, around his arms and legs; a fish-like tail sprouts from his lower back; his shoes explode as his feet shift from plantigrade to digitigrade; his arm/ankle rings and armbands crumble, fall away; the symbol of Universe 12 scorches itself in the middle of his chest. 

Arak’s face elongates into a long, wide snout, gains more amphibian features; his gut flattens; four additional pairs of arms emerge underneath the standard ones. His mohawk waving like a luminous scarlet ocean, a snake-like tail whips into existence; the Calamantian’s feet turn tridactyl, burst out of their shoes. Lastly, Arak’s eyes burn aflame with Energy of Destruction, his armbands, the rings around his whiskers, ankles, and similar accessories turn to dust; the sigil of Universe 5 etches itself on his forehead. 

Cloaked in searing purple, Hakaishin Arak and Hakaishin Geene land a flurry of blows at whatever ribs Mate has left to snap; the dragon man spits noticeable spurts of blood. They punch him high into the air, apparate right above him, deal one elbow blow each to the reptile’s collarbone and spine, cast over nine-thousand smaller Spheres of Destruction at his falling frame. Barely an instant later, the projectiles catch their target and explode without much in the way of resistance. 

Panting loudly, the battered warriors wipe blood-stained sweat from their eyes, lock pain roaring for acknowledgement away inside a tiny box in some faraway corner of their minds, and… impossible! Not even the Omni-King himself could’ve survived such a barrage! Damn reptile should be at death’s door, at the very least! A heavily battered Mate pants loudly. 

(_Translated from Japanese_). “[{_There is but one way to end this conflict…_}].”

Arak (_telepathically_): “[_Geene!_].”

Geene (_ditto_): “[_Ready!_].”

Geene/Arak: “ABSOLUTE DESTRUCTION! ARMAGEDDON ZERO!”

The Destroyers focus all ki in their bodies into core points in their forehead, chest, arms, hands, legs and feet, unleash it in a series of explosive blasts through their every pore, engulfing the room and everything in it as a blasé Beinwell warps away to safety. Over one million tendrils of Destruction Energy descend upon the Shihaishin, who effortlessly dodges with fancy footwork and jumps worthy of a master gymnast. 

The tentacles are hot on the dragon god’s trail. Mate doesn’t seem worried at all. Shutting his eyes, the Grand Numen’s body disappears within a scarlet-devilish glowing flame, plunges headfirst into the incoming wave of destructive ki, has trouble keeping his course. 

Geene and Arak grin maliciously; no way he’s getting out of this one! Ten seconds later, Mate’s crimson light overwhelms his opponents’ discharges, transmutes the Energy of Destruction into Chaos Dynamis, absorbs every bit of it, leaving the Destroyers from Universe 5 and 12 stiff with disbelief. 

Severely injured, perilously close to being overwhelmed by the incalculable energies coursing through him, Mate warps right in front of his opponents, dashes past them in a matter of microseconds without leaving so much as an afterimage. Barely a moment later, the stunned Geene and Arak scream in near-infinite pain: over nine hundred thousand diminutive pressure strikes wreak havoc all over their bodies, block their ki, remove their power of flight, send them crashing down into the ground. Their purple glow fades. They return to base form. 

An incandescent Mate lands in front of them, roars loud enough to shatter an entire solar system into atoms, discharges the excess energy as a translucent plume of unearthly crimson flame that hovers above the deities like a lesser sun. The dragon man resumes base form. Unable to move, Arak and Geene cannot survey the pounding they just took; excruciating aches, seemingly endless hematomas, copious amounts of blood and sweat set the record straight. 

Arak gazed up at the hated rival. Something wasn’t right: Mate looked… sad. Why? He’d just defeated not one, but _two _Gods of Destruction, in a fair fight! Such a feat happened only once every couple of eons, if at all. The most recent example took place not long ago in Universe 7, when Son Goku unlocked Super Saiyan God and fought the dreaded Beerus the Destroyer to a standstill. The Saiyan lost, but he did what only a handful of beings have accomplished: he earned the respect of a Hakaishin, and a scion of House Artois, to boot. Then the Tournament of Power rolled along. The stories Arak had heard didn’t do Goku and friends justice. 

Gods of Destruction Geene and Arak grumbled, swamped in stripes, gashes, scars, fractures as plentiful as stars at night, all of it dealt by a single being, Mate, who now looked positively wretched, like he was about to do something unspeakable. Groaning in agony that would’ve broken a lesser being, the confounded Arak at last managed to speak as Mate wiped blood and sweat from his battered brow, a salty Geene spat out several broken teeth, and an amused Beinwell warped back into the ravaged throne room, still carrying his master’s accouterments.

“Unreal…”

“I apologize, mine Lords. Had your attack gone unopposed, it would have certainly ravaged this realm and all beings in it. Regardless, ye have mine praise.” (_Bows_). “You summoned Gintama to your aid.”

“Gintama?”

“Lord Mate speaketh of th’ Argent Soul, Lord Arak.”

“Indeed, Wise One. ‘Tis a feat only a select few e’er manage.”

“Where we come from, we call it “Ultra Instinct.” (_Geene frowns)._ “All that training and I still haven’t mastered it. I’m sorry, Arak.” 

A saddened Arak gestured to speak, found nothing to say. Meanwhile, Mate respectfully smiled, showed his blood-drenched jaws: they were missing several teeth, albeit far less than his opponents. The dragon deity’s countenance cried a teary scarlet trickle where his right eye once was, now reduced to a suppurating scar… yet even in this state Mate retained his solemn bearing. 

Geene struggled to get back up and fight. He snarled, cursed every fiber of his being: his body, which he had trained for veritable eons under Martinu, had betrayed him. This… this couldn’t be happening! He was God of Destruction Geene, heir of Bonak the Devastator! Sure, he’d tasted defeat before, twice, at the hands of an anorexic cat and a despicable rat. Humiliating as those losses were, there was still hope. The Destroyer from Universe 12 would push himself even harder, break all his limits, eschew all restraint. He’d prevail in the end. He had to. Weakness was worse than sin: it was unforgivable. But this…? 

Bonak would laugh himself stupid the moment Geene arrived at Other World with his nonexistent tail between his legs. Vanquished, ravaged, humiliated… first by Caron, that disgusting serpent, incommensurably evil, fouler than the myriad abominations the Kualuan had put down for millions of years, then by Mate, whose strength and technique rivaled the damn snake, if they didn’t exceed him altogether. 

Mate took a deep breath, approached his fallen opponents. He seemed to be steeling himself, from what Arak and Geene gathered, then turned strangely serious. 

“Be not disheartened. Ye outlasted your fellow Lords, fought on despite insurmountable odds, became one with the Principle of Destruction, e’en injured me. Know this: you have earned the respect of the House of Ophion.”

(_Geene scowls_). “The hell’re you talking about?”

“Thou knowest not of the Most Eminent and Royal House of Ophion from the First Universe?”

(_Arak glares at Mate_). “Look pal, I’m acquainted with House Artois from Universe 11 and House Marnier from Universe 2. There’s also House Terroir from Universe 9 and House Blackthorn from Universe 7, both of which went extinct over two-thousand years ago. I also know of House Bundaberg from Universe 5, and House Amarone from Universe 10.”

(_Geene reciprocates Arak’s look_). “There’s also House Ahram from Universe 6, House Gat from Universe 4, House Rosángel from Universe 8, House Ketel from Universe 10, and House Hariya from Universe 2, along with countless other houses spread across the Multiverse. It’s been ages since I last brushed up on my history of Hakaishin Noble Houses, but there’s no “House Ophion” in any universe, far as I know.”

“Surely ye art mistaken. House Ophion is one of the most renowned houses throughout the Universal Grid! Its members have served with distinction for thousands of generations! The All-Sovereign would not…” (_Frowns, sighs_). “It matters not. I have won our wager, mine Lords. I hereby claim my reward.” 

A sorrowful Mate extended his opened right hand towards the throne, bidding his katana to fly into his grip. Unsheathing the blade, the Shihaishin had it float above his head as he split his tail in two, rolled one duplicate each across Geene and Arak’s necks, picked them up from the floor so that their eyes met his as he sat midair in a lotus position. 

Holding the vanquished deities firmly enough to keep them in place, yet loosely enough to avoid injuring them, Mate put the entirety of his left hand above Geene’s head and the whole of the right above Arak’s so that their eyes remained visible between his fingers. He shut his eyes, then solemnly, slowly chanted a strange mantra as a burning silver light enveloped the three gods.

“_Shinku… kyomu… kyo… shinku… kyomu… kyo… shinku… kyomu… kyo… kyo… kyo…_” 

The vanquished deities felt like their bodies were on fire. They couldn’t scream or do anything other that return the dragon’s numinous stare. Mate picked up the pace, raised the tone of his voice. 

“_Shinku. Kyomu. Kyo. Shinku. Kyomu. Kyo. Shinku. Kyomu. Kyo. Kyo. Kyo…_” 

The Shihaishin was practically yelling as his pacing grew insanely frenetic. Arak and Geene sensed how their very flesh and blood fell in thrall to this unseen force. Every muscle, every nerve, every limb had now become argent fire. They wanted to scream, but the flames had seared their lungs and tongues shut. At that point they were no longer Gods of Destruction, just as Mate had ceased to be a Sakujoshin: they were become fire, earth, metal, water, wood, air, nature, ice, light, darkness… or so it seemed. 

“_Shinku, kyomu, kyo, shinku, kyomu, kyo, shinku, kyomu, kyo, kyo, kyo, kyo, kyo, kyo, kyo!_”

There was a brief pause. Mate gave himself to silence: the burning and agony relented, allowed the pair some respite. The dragon god swiftly opened his glowing eyes. 

“SHINKU[14]!” 

New flames overwhelmed Geene and Arak. Their screams reverberated through the halls as every organ, muscle, vein and cell was shattered and reconfigured all at once. The invading force siphoned their God ki and Energy of Destruction into Mate’s body, then into the floating katana. The energies coalesced within the sphere of Chaos Dynamis, then shot up into the sky to parts unknown. The Grand Numen clenched his jaws, but otherwise showed no emotion.

Arak’s amphibian eyes shifted from purple to a golden-green hue similar to pyrite mottled with thick blackish lines. His hair went from red to black, fell into a disheveled mess all over his head. His telepathic connection severed, the Calamantian could no longer sense ki. All strength and nearly all muscle mass, particularly in his stomach, forsook him. 

Geene’s screams gradually faded to a dull roar, a fretful exclamation, a barely audible rasp, silence. The crimson around his eyes dissolved into a rusted brown, his warrior physique drained into a taut, deathlike gauntness. The Kualuan coughed raucously. He couldn’t pick up Arak’s psychic presence or feel energy. 

Sorrow and shame twisted Geene’s visage by the time Mate gently set the warriors down on the floor; the fishman buckled under his knees when he tried to stand. Shaking and shivering, the Destroyer from Universe 12 was near tears by the time Arak futilely tried to get up.

“Oww… Geene?” 

Geene tried to speak, but only uttered incoherent grunts and gasps. Upon realizing what had happened, the fallen warrior gripped his throat with both hands, his expression frozen in horrified disbelief.

“What’s… wrong…? W-Why…?” 

Arak almost screamed when he looked at Geene’s face. Both warriors could clearly see the other’s skeleton underneath near transparent flesh. The Calamantian gasped, nearly fainted at the sight of his own bone-thin hands, all while Beinwell brandished a cheeky grin.

“Oyzo Roku, Zumot al-Massaya, your time as Gods of Destruction has come to an end: ye art mortal now. Lord Mate and the Principle of Vacuity have seen to that.”

The Grand Numen landed, turned away upon sheathing his katana, crossing his arms behind his back. Mate began to weep, his tears staining the floor below.

“The sound of silence. Ye shall become inured to it.” (_Sighs_). “Forgive me, mine Lords. ‘Tis beyond mine power…” 

“Forsooth, th’ very air is foul! What reeks thus?” 

The group caught a stomach-turning stench. Mate sniffed a couple of times, failed to repress a sensation of nausea, to his everlasting shame and vexation. Beinwell covered his nose, once again asked for the source of that odor. The Archangel caught sight of a retching Arak, then realized he’d just answered his own question when the Calamantian shut and averted his eyes.

“Shall I escort Sirrah Eel and Sirrah Minnow to their chambers ere they rot, mine Lord?”

That did it. Geene furiously jumped with one last burst of strength. He punched and scratched at Beinwell’s visage over twenty times, spat at the Archangel’s cheek with all the hate he could muster, but didn’t leave so much as a scar. Immediately afterward, the Attendant coolly floored the aquatic warrior with a swift backhand. Geene’s cheek bore the telltale handprint as a horrified Arak shambled to his ally’s side.

“GEENE!”

Mate exploded in Chaos Dynamis. Beinwell coolly wiped his cheek with a handkerchief, rolling his eyes in anticipation of an incoming lecture he’d only heard a billion times before.

“BEINWELL! HOW DARE THEE LAY HANDS UPON MINE GUEST!?”

“I beg thy pardon, mine Lord; I’ll not be used thus by any, much less a mortal. I merely aveng’d mine-self as mine station demands. Surely thou shan’t take offense at that?”

(_Mate grumbles_). “We’ll talk about this later. Do what is required of thee.” 

Beinwell nodded; he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the fallen gods, who were blinded by piercing light. When it vanished, Geene and Arak realized their injuries were completely healed; nevertheless, their pain and weakness remained. They also found themselves dressed in _tabi _socks, _zōri_ sandals, and a simple black and grey kimono bearing Mate’s insignia. Their ruined uniforms nowhere to be seen, the former deities fell unconscious: the last of their strength had ebbed away. 

“Take them to their appointed quarters.”

“Allow me to heal thee first.”

Mate shook his head, sat down on the first steps to the throne, paying no mind as Beinwell set his divine gear nearby.

“See to our guests. I shall be here upon thy return.” 

The Archangel levitated the ex-Destroyers, effortlessly draped them over his shoulders. He was about to leave when Mate bade him wait.

“Beinwell… have Masala-sama examine them. Keep them away from… mine kinsman. Lastly, beware lest thou abuse mine guests again. Am I understood?” 

Beinwell nodded, then left. The dragon deity sighed. The stone beneath him was stained with his blood and sweat.

“The hour is awry. He who backslides is damn'd.”

As this unfolded, three mysterious figures looked from a crumbling balcony some five floors above. Mate didn’t seem to care.

Figure 1 (male): “His body is weakened, his resolve shaken.”

Figure 2 (female): “He shall be true to his word. That much is certain.”

Figure 1: “I think our forbearance hazardous, milady. If Lord Mate should learn of this…”

Figure 2: “Our orders are precise. The Grand Numen must perform the ritual.”

Figure 3 (male): “I care not a damn. I’ll play along that I may attain mine prize.”

Figure 1: “We ought to depart. Mine charge might deem it amiss if I tarry.”

Figure 2: “Tell the overlords what has transpired. The Primal Ones shall be pleased.”

* * *

[1] Byzantine lamellar, scaled suit of armor (Source: Wikipedia).

[2] “Baa-eyn-well.” Possible V.A.’s: Sam Witwer (Darth Maul, _Star Wars: The Clone Wars_), Ron Pearlman (Slade Wilson/Deathstroke, _Teen Titans_), Steven Blum (Sub-Zero, _Mortal Kombat X_). 

[3] Possible V.A.’s: Graham McTavish (Dracula, _Castlevania_, Netflix), Don Leslie (_Sym-Bionic Titan_), Fred Melamed (_Courage the Cowardly Dog_), Mark Hamill (Ozai, _Avatar: The Last Airbender_).

[4] Possible V.A.’s: Eric A. Roberts (Dark Danny, _Danny Phantom_), Andrew Kishino (Ora, _The Lion Guard_), Héctor Elizondo (Bane, _Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman_), Henry Silva (Bane, _The New Batman Adventures_).

[5] As per Japanese naming customs, the surname (Chinokiba—“Chee-noh-kee-bah”) precedes the given name (Dhejava—“Deh-jah-bah”).

[6] {Brace brackets} indicate that the character is speaking a language other than English.

[7] Curved saber used in Byzantine military (Source: Wikipedia).

[8] “Koo-ah-loo-ahn.” From the Sumerian “kua” [fish], “lu” [man]. (Source: [www.bulgari-istoria-2010.com/Rechnici/Sumerian_Dictionary.pdf](http://www.bulgari-istoria-2010.com/Rechnici/Sumerian_Dictionary.pdf)).

[9] Japanese heraldic emblems used by individuals and collectives, including businesses (Source: Wikipedia).

[10] “Meh-eih-toh,” “Baa-ein-noo-eh-roo,” “Zoo-moh-toh-aroo-mah-sah-yah.” Possible V.A.’s: Jamieson Price (The Count of Monte Cristo, _Gankutsuou_), Phil LaMarr (Kotal Kahn, _Mortal Kombat 11_), Keith David (Goliath, Disney’s _Gargoyles_), Blair Underwood (Makuu, _The Lion Guard_).

[11] “Rah-peh-thoh.”

[12] “Kee-ah-ron,” “Gee-ne.”

[13] “Geen-tah-mah.”

[14] From the Japanese “真空, 虚無, 虚” (“Vacuum, nil, emptiness, vacuum, nil, emptiness, vacuum, nil, emptiness, nil, nil, nil, nil, nil, nil, nil… Vacuum/Vacuity!”). Sources: japanese.english-dictionary.help/index.php (kanji), Google Translate (translation).


	4. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally looking up for Beerus. Then again, misery loves company... 
> 
> Special thanks to lssj2 (https://www.deviantart.com/lssj2).

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences **

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 4: Silver Lining

_Two days later…_

Okocim floated within dead-cold space. He wore nothing but a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts that couldn’t keep him warm in the colorless, soundless void where he now dwelt. Shivering, his shattering teeth ill disrupting all-devouring silence, the feline came across a large, brown-colored planet, the sight of which got the Sphygian’s memory running.

“This… this is… Sekhmet.”

Okocim tried to reach his homeworld, but realized he couldn’t move. The gelid nothingness around him hardly disturbed by the scorching heat that characterized this renowned star system in Universe 11, the near-frozen feline prayed to the long-forgotten gods of his people to consign him to the deepest darkness. If the vacuum of space, exposure or starvation didn’t kill him, the boredom certainly would.

“What are you doing here?”

The ex-Hakaishin frantically looked to the left, hoping against all hope that he’d misheard, that his mind was playing tricks on him again, that it wasn’t… _him_. Okocim’s eyes trembled when they caught the large, shadowy male figure that was the source of that bass tone, then screamed his lungs out.

“[_Not **him**! Merciful gods, not **him**!_]. F-F-Father!? Why’re you…!?”

The figure decked Okocim square in the jaw, knocked him flat on his back, shattering several teeth and nearly unhinging his jaw from the rest of the body. The former Lord Beerus nearly vomited. The monstrous male towered above him, breathing hateful anger in and out.

“Impudent shit stain! You want me to get Radler?”

The weeping Okocim got back on his feet and tried to speak, but the sound of his voice was wrong. It was too high-pitched, more fitting for a kid than a… no! It can’t be! It couldn’t be!

It all sank in. Looking at himself, the former Destroyer realized he’d somehow transformed into a child version of himself. Nursing his bruised snout, Okocim braved a look at his tormentor, praying to die. 

“N-N-No, L-Lord T-Tusker, S-S-Sir! I-I-I-I apologize, S-S-S-Sir! P-Please pardon my language, Sir!”

Tusker’s eyes and body seethed with Energy of Destruction. Why? Why had this little shit lived, and not…?

(_Mocking, icy-cold tone_). “‘Please pardon my language, Sir.’ As the Omni-King’s my witness, you and the other one are pathetic. Why your mother gave birth to the two of you is beyond me.” (_Tusker’s eyes and body burn with Energy of Destruction_). “I asked you a question, fuck-up. I don’t recall giving you permission to come home.” 

Okocim tried to speak, yet no sound came out of his mouth. Looking down, he realized his snout was gone. Unable to scream, his eyes trembled harder still: his father held the tiny snout in his hands, started working it like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“Oh, look at me, I’m Beerus Artois and I’m all that! I’d rather be lazy and selfish than do any honest work! She’s more than twice the man I’ll ever be, but I refuse to follow her example ‘coz I’m just a fuck-up who lucked out at being born! What, you wanna cry, you little waste of space? I’ll give you something to cry about!”

Tusker beat up the boy with a blinding, fast succession of punches and kicks that seemed to last forever. By the time the bloodied ex-Hakaishin was near-death, his predecessor elbowed his back, then grabbed him by the neck, squeezing firmly enough to cause pain, yet also loosely enough so as not to break the spine.

“P-Please… F… Father…”

Tusker started to power up. His head grew as big as Sekhmet itself as he accumulated and unleashed God ki and Destruction Energy throughout the galaxies of Universe 11. The Destroyer’s eyes were the size of a small moon by the time they grew rancid and shattered. The pieces slithered out of their sockets as all flesh burned away, revealing a dark, empty-eyed skull, which then opened its hell-like maw and screamed loud enough to shatter Zen-Oh himself like a twig.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI!!!”

Sekhmet, its surrounding galaxies, the whole of U11 exploded into an endless supernova that obliterated Okocim in a matter of microseconds, his muted screams unnoticed as he collapsed. Heaving and panting frantically, the Sphygian realized he was an adult once more, that he was safe and sound in Universe 7, in his bedroom at Capsule Corp. 

The trembling feline raised, sat down on the nearby bed, sighed with relief: no approaching steps tonight. Nobody was coming to check up on him, as in the past couple of nights, when his nightmares and ensuing screams woke the Briefs “and the whole stinking neighborhood with a start,” in Vegeta’s words. Tonight was different, however: either he hadn’t made a sound, or everyone somehow managed to sleep through the racket. Bulma, Vegeta, Trunks, Bulla… he could see the bags underneath their eyes through the shades of black, gray and white which now dominated his field of vision, as it was prior to his ascension thousands of years ago. 

“[_Thank Kami. I was startin’ to make a pest of myself_].”

Sleep hadn’t come easy for Okocim since his undeification, doing nothing but wonders for his state of mind, moods, and daily functions. Gazing at the window in front of him, the disgraced warrior realized it was early in the morning. True to his word, Goku hadn’t apparated into his room to take him out for daily training. Since they weren’t getting anywhere, the Saiyan let him have the rest of the week off, saying he’d be busy doing other things.

After a bit of searching, Okocim grabbed a nearby cane, got up, and hobbled his way to a bathroom a few steps away from the bed. The journey back and forth was certainly short, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Two days after Lord Beerus’ fall from grace, the doctors deemed it safe for their patient to gradually regain full use of his legs with the aid of a walking cane. While Okocim kept up with a strict regimen of physical therapy, progress had been less than forthcoming in this and all other aspects of his new mortal life. 

The ex-Destroyer slapped himself hard. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he mastered ki control by now? Why couldn’t he drop the damn cane and walk like the normal, functioning adult he was supposed to be? Why did he keep making trouble for everybody else? Why couldn’t he go through life without spreading pain and misery every single day?

Having locked the door, Okocim stripped to his boxer shorts, stared at his reflection in the mirror. By now his purple skin had almost completely faded into blotchy pink patches on the verge of resolving themselves into varied peach hues. At the same time, a series of light black mink patterns took their time invading a body which day after day reacquainted itself with death and decay. 

The former Hakaishin cringed upon recalling what he saw the day before, when curiosity prompted him to have a look downstairs. Thank Kami it wasn’t as horrible as he thought it’d be. Still, it’d be better if certain things remained unseen.

“[_If only I’d slept in that day. If I’d listened to Lanson, she’d still be…_].”

Okocim looked at the palms of his hands. They looked as sickly as every other part of his body. Would Champa laugh at him, like Okocim himself had done so many times? Would the disgraced deity shrug and join in the laughter too? By then there’d be no point in delaying the tidal wave of opprobrium that would engulf the fallen god and his living relatives (all two of ‘em) the moment their fellow deities learned about the downfall of Beerus the Destroyer, the most hated and feared descendant of the no less hated and feared Noble and Distinguished House of Artois. 

_I’ll ask your daddy next time I see him… or maybe your brother knows?_

Okocim sweated nervously. Zen-Oh didn’t care to elaborate, but it didn’t take Bulma, Quitela, or Mule to read between the lines. Hell, even a dumbass like Goku could’ve figured it out. The blue bastard wasn’t all too happy with God of Destruction Lord Champa VIII, son of Afsnath, the Destroyer assigned to Universe 6, last known living descendant of the formerly Noble and Distinguished House of Marnier. If Beerus’ fate was anything to go by, neither twin would be doing much laughing (or anything else, for that matter) once that man got wind of the Omni-King’s intentions. But what if…? 

Okocim gasped. He looked away for a moment, caught unawares by the sight of his sleep-deprived bloodshot eyes, then sighed. Mortality wasn’t so much an emotional roller coaster as it was yet another part of him going out with a whimper rather than a bang. Even constant anxiety and all-encompassing dread were preferable to that whole lot of nothing the feline was mired in at that moment.

Eyes firmly shut, Okocim brushed his teeth and took a quick shower. Afterward he put on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a tank top and sandals, then joined the Briefs downstairs for breakfast.

(_Tired, barely awake_). “Mornin’. How y’all doin’?”

Bulma and Trunks returned the greeting. Vegeta scoffed when little Bulla flew out of his arms and into Okocim’s, who then forced a smile.

“Unca Beewus! Unca Beewus!”

“Hi, sweetie. [_Supreme Kai Almighty, I’m such a fucking wreck. Hope she doesn’t notice…_].”

“Alright Bulla, give Uncle Beewus—I-I mean Beerus, some room.” 

Bulma gently sat her daughter down on a nearby baby chair. She was about to head to the kitchen when she noticed Okocim’s condition.

“Your skin…”

(_Okocim yawns loudly, continues sotto-voce_). “Guess it’s shifting back to its natural colors. Normally I’d be concerned, but I’m all out of fucks to give. Pardon my language.”

“I see.” (_Notices Okocim’s eyes_). Another nightmare?”

(_Okocim nods, yawns again_). “Boy, was this one a doozy. My bedsheets and pajamas are all sweaty. Luckily, I didn’t… relieve myself all over them again, like the night before. Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, Beerus. One day at a time.” 

Bulma put her hand on Okocim’s shoulder, gave him a plate of scrambled eggs with toast and a cup of coffee. The former Destroyer sat down and started eating half-heartedly.

“Feeling better?”

(_Okocim smiles faintly_). “A little. This splitting headache doesn’t help any.”

“I’ll get you some aspirin. Come along, Bulla.”

(_Bulla flies into Bulma’s arms_). “Bye-bye, Unca Beewus.” 

Okocim grinned kindly as mother and daughter left. Such a sweet little girl, the opposite of her father, who sat far away, grumbling to himself.

“Feeling alright, Vegeta?” 

The Prince of All Saiyans remained quiet. Okocim knew better than to force the issue, so he followed suit. A couple of minutes passed in silence, only interrupted by the clinking of cutlery and dishes. A little later, Trunks took soiled dishes to the sink and started to wash them, much to the Sphygian’s wonder. The half-Saiyan soon sensed something amiss.

“Something wrong, Beerus?”

(_Okocim awkwardly looks away_). “N-No, why?”

“You were looking at me funny.”

“R-Right, sorry about that.” (_Sighs_). “Know something, Trunks? I just realized, I haven’t thanked you and Goten for… y’know, saving my life and all that.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re still staring, though.”

“It’s just… I… I thought you guys had a dishwasher.”

“We only use it when lots of stuff gets piled up. Mom doesn’t like it when we use technology to do things we can easily do ourselves.”

“Like washing dishes.” (_Okocim smiles kindly_). “Your mom’s real smart, kid. Pretty wise, too. Most people are neither one nor the other.”

“Mom’s not most people.”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “No argument here. Although…” 

Okocim’s head began to pulsate. The feline fell from his seat, heaving, panting heavily, his eyes jumping back and forth. 

“V-V-Vegeta…” 

“_Sickening vermin…_”

A gelid voice whistled around Okocim’s temples. The air in the living room grew ever oppressive as a startled Vegeta jumped from his chair and frantically looked around.

“What’s going on!? Where’s this energy coming from!?”

(_Terrified Trunks is terrified_). “D-Dad? W-W-What’s going…?”

(_Vegeta points at the stairs_). “Protect your mother and sister, Trunks!” 

The boy flew upstairs in great haste. After that, Okocim uneasily got back on his feet. His brow doused in sweat, his visage death-pale, his eyes trembled as if Zen-Oh himself were standing in front on him.

“Not again… gods damn it… not again…”

Just then, the living room became icy cold. Okocim kept looking around everywhere, mumbling incoherently to himself as the shivering Vegeta strained his eyes in the Sphygian’s general direction. There was nobody else in that room by the time the ex-Hakaishin bared his teeth at nothing.

“Beerus?” [_Damn cat finally snapped… or maybe **I** have!?_].”

“_Befriending mortals is beneath thee, blood of Artois. Thou…_”

“_I’ll_ decide what’s beneath me, you third-rate spook! Now go fuck thyself before I _really_ lose my temper.”

“_Once a Destroyer, always a Destroyer. Thou art unworthy_.”

Silence. The room resumed normal temperature; the oppressive atmosphere faded away, yet Vegeta was still on edge.

“What… what in the world… was… _that_?”

“You heard it too?”

“Heard what?”

(_Okocim emotes accordingly_). “Didn’t you hear a scary voice say “sickening vermin,” “thou art unworthy,” and other stuff?”

“All I heard was you swearing at somebody… or some_thing_. I… I felt… some sort of presence, then the room got freezing cold...”

“Great. Just friggin’ great.”

Okocim sat back down. He was wiping the sweat from his forehead by the time Bulma and Trunks rushed back downstairs.

“Are you guys alright!?”

“We’ll live. Just told the voice in my head to go fuck itself (pardon my language). Please tell me you got those pills.” 

The disgraced Destroyer stood up, nearly fell, overcome by a spell of dizziness. Pills in hand, Okocim poured himself a glass of water and downed them in a single gulp while a tremulous Trunks cautiously approached Vegeta.

“Dad… Is… Is it…?”

“It’s gone.”

“Mom, you should’ve seen it! Me and Beerus were talking, then all of a sudden I felt something really weird and…” (_Trunks swallows hard_). “I don’t know what it was, but I… I’m scared.” 

Heading upstairs, Vegeta signaled Trunks to come along. Father and son left after the Prince sent a we’ll-talk-about-this-later glance at Bulma’s direction, who felt a chill down her spine after Vegeta spared one last harsh look at the drained Sphygian.

(_Horrified Okocim is…_). “I’m sorry, Bulma… I… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s ok, Beerus. Look, I… I think you should see Piccolo. Maybe he and Dende can help us figure out where that voice is coming from and…”

Okocim deflected his eyes to the floor, swallowed hard, practically sweated ice. There he was, making a burden of himself yet again. Business as usual. 

“Bulma… I… I think I should leave… I… I don’t think you guys’ll be safe with that… that _thing_ lurking around. I… I couldn’t live with myself if… if I hurt you… if I hurt Vegeta… Trunks… Bulla.”

(_Bulma frowns_). “Look, give me some time to think things over, ok? In the meantime, why don’t go out for a walk in the yard? It’ll help you clear your thoughts.” 

A reluctant Okocim nodded. Cane in hand, he limped his way outside…

_Later, around 9:30 AM…_

Still lost in thought, Okocim sensed something was off by the time he reached the pool area. Fast-paced drums dispersed the silence he’d grown used to around this hour. He wasn’t alone. A young feline woman danced not far from the pool. 

The former deity took a closer look. She seemed to be somewhere in her late-teens or early-twenties, her fur etched with tabby-slash-calico markings interrupted by prostheses where her right arm and tail were supposed to be. Far as Okocim was concerned, however, such “blemishes” didn’t detract from her in the slightest.

The cat man stood transfixed. The woman was dancing, alright, but there was more to it. Was she… fighting? Play-fighting? Her legs and padded humanoid feet flowed, jumped, kicked with the power of a hurricane tempered by a sultry afternoon breeze, a shot in the dark caressing the dawning zephyr come to vanquish the sleepless night. She must’ve been doing this for years, the Sphygian thought, if the skill and poise he witnessed were to be believed. 

This went on for a good hour and a half. Afterwards, the dancer switched off the music from a nearby smartphone, wiped the sweat on her forehead, sat down by the pool and dipped her feet in the water while casually licking the palm of her hand.

“Fancy the weather?[1]”

Sweating profusely, a flustered Okocim almost dropped his towel and sunscreen. He made as if to speak, but only managed to utter a couple of nervous, long-drawn “uhs” while awkwardly pointing at himself. Half a minute later, the Sphygian at last loosened his tongue, uneasily approached the pool.

“A-Are you talking to me?”

“You see anybody else here?”

The dancer stopped licking herself. She washed her hand in the water below even as Okocim stole a furtive glance at her submerged legs, then looked away, mentally cursing himself. 

“Pretty good hearing you got there.”

“Wasn’t my hearing. Felt you coming a mile away.”

“You _felt_ me? You can sense ki?”

The dancer smiled coyly, having caught a glimpse of her fellow feline, his eyes wide with wonder. It wasn’t every day one met somebody on the know, after all. It seemed this young lady thought much the same. 

“So you know about that. Don’t mean to be rude, but there’s something off about yours.”

(_Okocim sits by her side_)_. _“What about it?” 

The dancer discreetly glanced at Okocim, but quickly looked the other way. The former deity seized this opportunity. A cursory look revealed her lively light-brown eyes, the way they accentuated her cat-like countenance, its right side marred with multiple slash scars of varying depths and lengths. Even so, Okocim saw her dancing the evening away, the setting sun smoldering the sand beneath her feet a shimmering golden brown, the lukewarm scent of saltpeter gently settled into that fur she’d never allow anybody to touch. Fine by him. He was in no hurry to get his eyes gouged out by glossy, lustrous claws.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It feels… weird, like you’re not from around here.”

“What, like I’m from another planet or somethin’?”

“Sorta. My Sensei says his best friends are aliens.”

The dancer ventured another glance, focused on the newcomer’s hands, then went up to the wrists all the way to the elbows, stopping just shy of the shoulders. Pretending not to notice, Okocim took off his sandals and sank his feet into the water as casually as possible, meaning he moved with all the grace and aplomb of a manatee running (or swimming?) late for mating season.

“Sounds interesting.”

(_Feline Dancer yawns_). “That’s all you gotta say?”

Okocim flashed a discreet smile. The dancer’s legs and feet weren’t all that different from his own, only slightly shorter and smaller. Good thing, too. He couldn’t see the appeal in something too minuscule to let you crawl, climb, or even hunt right. How in the Multiverse did humans become this planet’s dominant species, let alone survive all these eons?

(_Okocim chuckles_). “Well, what do you want me to say?” 

“Your name, for starters.”

“Bee—O-O-Okocim. Name’s Okocim, as in… as in…” 

(_Feline Dancer chortles briefly_). “Funny name, if you ask me.”

“You got a better one?”

(_Feline Dancer smiles_). “Anise. As in “star anise.”

(_Okocim returns the smile_). “Pretty name, if you ask me.”

“You look kinda familiar. Have we…?”

“Anise! Where are you, Anise?”

Both felines turned to their right as a bald three-eyed human made his way to where they were. Okocim recognized Tien Shinhan, Master of the Tien-Shin Style Dojo, and his companion Chiaotzu, two of Goku’s countless enemies-turned-allies-turned-friends, but he had no clue regarding the two youths standing behind them. Her countenance steeped in scarlet, Anise hastily put on her nearby tennis shoes, then respectfully bowed.

“M-Master Tien! I-I didn’t mean to wonder off! I just needed to clear my head for a moment.”

“No need to apologize. The others just finished their sessions. We’re going home.”

“Sessions?”

Anise gathered her belongings. Still shoeless, a puzzled Okocim stood up, awed by the whirlwind of activity the cat woman had become on such short notice. The disgraced deity looked around at nearby beach chairs, plants, anything, long as it diverted his attention.

“My friends and I come to Capsule Corp for physical therapy every week or so. Helps us pick ourselves up, along with Master Tien’s training and our talks with the local shrink.”

(_Annoyed Tien is annoyed_). “Anise, how many times do I have to tell you? They’re called “psychiatrists,” not “shrinks.”

“Sorry, Master.” (_Anise realizes something_). “Where’re my manners? These are my teammates. Fennel’s the youngest, and Cumin’s the one in the middle. And, of course, you already know Chiaotzu.”

The former Hakaishin spared a discreet glance after the little guy waved back. Cumin was a rooster-like lad no older than fifteen, his prosthetic fowl-like legs visible between the gaps revealed by his Tien-Shin _gi_. His plumage a glossy black, white, and brown-speckled grey interrupted around the neck by a series of burn marks otherwise concealed from view, the discomfited youth scratched his disfigured wattles and nearly nonexistent comb after he’d reached the area. A slightly uneasy Okocim prudently tore his sight away from the bulging, palpitating veins on his dry, scale-caked face and hands. 

“[_Seems like a nice kid. Shame about his looks, though_].”

On the other hand, Fennel stood a little over four feet tall and belonged to an amphibian race, as hinted by the worn external gills behind the head, which indicated he was… what, exactly? A lizard? Yes and no. An axolotl? Yes and no. His taupe and bright yellow-stripped skin glimmering under the sun, the new arrival had an extensive blotch-like scar around his countenance, calmly surveyed his surroundings with bead-like black eyes while concealing a couple of small gloved hands under the wide sleeves of his shirt. 

Meanwhile, Fennel returned Okocim’s stare. His incisive eyes reflected the Sphygian’s countenance, as if he were gazing beyond the cat man’s flesh all the way to the bones, nerves, tendons, appraising him as if he were a secret that was his alone to unravel. The boy seemed to be assessing him, inspecting him… judging him. The ex-Hakaishin ended up transfixed by the thick black veins around the youth’s visage and gills, swallowed hard after spotting the cybernetic implant over Fennel’s snout, marveled at the near rhythmical way it breathed in and out, without missing a beat.

(_Okocim sweats a little_). “[_Why’s he starin’ at me like that? Does he know who I am? Does he… does he know what I…?_].” (_Wipes the sweat away_). “[_The fuck’s wrong with you, Beerus!? He’s just a kid! What’s he gonna do, throw a tantrum!?_].” (_Waves sheepishly_). “H-Hi, little guy! How you doin’?” 

Tien, Chiaotzu, Anise and Cumin facepalmed almost in unison. The vexed amphibian “spoke” in sign language at the same time a series of beeps, boops, and other sounds emanated from his mouthpiece. 

“<Who are you calling “little,” roadkill?>.”

(_Offended Anise is…_). “Fennel! You’re being rude!”

(_Puzzled Okocim is…_). “The hell he just said?”

Feeling the ground in front of him with his white cane, a reluctant Cumin stepped forward. The rooster lad seemed ill at ease, as his bearing clearly indicated he'd sooner leave rather than get stuck on damage control.

“Something insulting and nasty, Sir. Kindly accept our apologies on Fennel’s behalf. He isn’t very personable. That means he’s not easy to like[2].”

Already irritated by an impending lecture, Fennel glowered at Cumin. The rooster boy, however, wasn’t exactly impressed.

“<Mind your own business, Jintan>.”

“Stop being a jerk to everybody else and I will, Márathos.” 

(_Chiaotzu sighs_). “You two…”

(_Tien turns to Fennel_). “I’m disappointed in you, Fennel. We’re not leaving until you apologize to Lord Beerus.”

(_Anise snaps her fingers_). “That’s _it_! You’re that Hakaishin Master told us about, aren’t you?” 

Okocim sweated copiously. The Sphygian grinned awkwardly, tugged at his shirt’s nonexistent collar.

“W-Well, y’see, I… it’s a long and complicated story and…” 

Anise’s expression set him at ease. It was serene, relaxed, almost as if she were saying “it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Meanwhile, the annoyed Tien and Chiaotzu glared at an increasingly upset Fennel.

“Is there something you would like to say to Lord Beerus, Fennel?”

The young amphibian realized the battle was lost. Whenever Sensei switched to that irritated tone, the only viable course was to diffuse whatever situation his adder-like tongue had gotten him into. Much against his will, the glowering Fennel “spoke” and gestured accordingly.

“<Apologies, Your Godship.>”

(_Cumin almost facepalms_). “Damn it, Fenn! Can’t you apologize like you mean it at least once in your life?”

Fennel was not amused. Arms crossed against his chest, he sharply turned towards Cumin, the veins in his body throbbing like he had half a mind to break somebody’s neck.

“<What have I told you about sticking that crooked beak of yours where it doesn’t belong, Jintan?>.” 

(_Cumin blushes, covers his beak_). “(_Bawk!_). H-Hey, that’s not fair!”

(_Mortified Tien is mortified_). “Enough!” (_Turns to Anise and Chiaotzu_). “Would you guys mind waiting outside? I’ll be right out.”

(_Chiaotzu takes a deep breath_). “Not at all. Come along, you three.” 

(_Anise walks away along with Chiaotzu, Cumin and Fennel, waves goodbye_). “Nice meeting you, Okocim!” 

Anise waved goodbye, stepped away with Chiaotzu, Cumin and Fennel. Okocim waved back, blissfully unaware of his slight slouch, the giddy smile etched on his face before he remembered Tien.

“Okocim?”

(_Gloomy Okocim is…_). “Ask Bulma if you wanna know the details.”

“Speaking of which… Bulma phoned ahead and told me everything this morning. I’m sorry about what happened, Lord Beerus.”

(_Smiles timidly_). “Thanks. Please don’t call me “Lord.” Beerus is fine.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Apart from the constant fatigue, that damn limp, the nightmares, questioning pretty much every choice I’ve made in life? Just fine. It’s weird, though. I’m doing everything I used to do (minus destroying), but now it’s different, like hot and cold, for instance.” (_Frowns_). “I can’t see colors anymore, and for some reason desserts just aren’t what they used to be.”

(_Tien grins slyly_). “I think I can answer that last one. You’re a cat, right? Cats can’t taste sugar, and I don’t mean just cane sugar or sweeteners.”

(_Okocim smiles awkwardly_). “Right. Silly me. Maybe the God ki spiced things up a bit.” (_Sighs_). “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… does Anise know? About me, I mean?”

“Not really. She knows about the Dragon Balls, Kais, Destroyers, the Multiverse, even a bit about the Omni-King, that’s about it. I might’ve let slip a couple of details about certain Gods of Destruction, but nothing substantial.” (_Sighs_). “Look, I know we haven’t exactly been friends in the past, but if you ever need help, ask Goku. He can help you reach me if you need someone to talk to. He means well, but he’s not exactly qualified to handle this kind of thing.”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “Yeah, no kidding. Thanks, Tien.”

“I’ll see you later, Beerus.”

And with that, the Master of the Tien-Shin Dojo took his leave as Okocim sat back down in front of the pool, humming sweet nothings while soaking his feet underwater, floating in placid smiles and good feelings. Nothing could possibly ruin this…

“Hi, Lord Beerus!” 

An effusive Goku materialized right next to the cat man, who screamed, hastily jumped back, fell into the water. It took Beerus all of fifteen seconds to resurface, heralding his seething rage with a succession of bubbles, spitting out a trickle of water as he… floated out of the pool?

“GOKU, YOU IDIOT! JUST WAIT TILL I GET MY CLAWS ON YOU, YOU SONOVA…”

“Look, Lord Beerus, look!”

“DON’T TRY TO WEASEL OUT OF THIS ONE, MONKEY! I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU APPARATING AND SCARING THE CRAP OUT OF ME! NOW YOU’RE GONNA…!”

“LORD BEERUS!”

“WHAT!?”

The Saiyan pointed to the ground underneath Beerus. Realizing he was in midair, the feline panicked and plummeted to the bottom of the pool. Thinking fast, Goku dived in and pulled Okocim out in a matter of seconds. Back in dry land, the coughing Sphygian removed his drenched shirt and tossed it aside, unable to digest what had just transpired. 

(_Stunned Goku is…_). “Lord Beerus… you… you flew…”

Staring at his opened hands, the euphoric Okocim tuned out his surroundings, the nearby chirping birds, the comings and goings of Capsule Corp staff going about their business. By the time it finally hit him, the disgraced God of Destruction was crying tears of joy, leaping in exultation. 

“I… I did… I DID!”

“I knew you could do it!”

“I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT!” (_Stops abruptly_). “But I can’t get it to work now.” (_Realizes something_). “Wait a sec. I was furious before, so maybe… STOP SCARING ME WITH THAT INSTANT TRANSMISSION CRAP!” (_Jumps. Goku is briefly spooked. Nothing happens_). “I CAN’T STAND THE TASTE OF BEEF!” (_Still nothing_). “SWEETS TASTE LIKE CRAP NOW!” (_Nope…_). “I HAVEN’T HAD A DECENT LAY IN OVER FIVE-THOUSAND YEARS!” (_Nothing still_). “Gods damn it. I knew it was too good to be true. I don’t even know how I did it.”

The feline despondently sat down with his lets crossed. Goku crouched next to him, cautiously put his hand on Okocim’s bare shoulder. Still soaking wet, the cat couldn’t be bothered to move or speak. Loathe as he was to admit it, the Sphygian felt a bit more at ease at that moment, yet immediately looked away so the Saiyan wouldn’t see him turn redder than red. 

“Don’t be so sad, man. You did it once: you can do it again. I’m sure of it.”

(_Smiles kindly_). “Yeah… thanks, Goku.”

“Don’t mention it.” (_Goku becomes puzzled_). “I got a coupla questions, though…”

(_Beerus scowls_). “I already told you, I can’t figure out how I did it.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

“What’s wrong with your skin? It’s all ugly and weird now.”

(_Okocim sighs_). “[_Tactful as ever, monkey boy…_]. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s going back to the way it was before I became a god. Not counting me an’ Champa, how many purple cats have you seen in _your_ lifetime?” (_Goku shrugs_). What’s the other question?”

“What’s a “lay”?”

Beerus stopped himself just shy of a facepalm. Remembering who he was dealing with, Okocim took a deep breath and accepted his fate.

“I’ll tell you later. In the meantime, I already know what’s the first thing I wanna learn soon as I master ki control.”

“The Kamehameha?”

“No.”

“The Kaio-ken?”

“Still no.”

“The Spirit Bomb? Yamcha’s Spirit Ball?”

“Not even close.”

“Gohan’s Masenko? Tien’s Tri-Beam?”

“Definitely interested. Not yet, though.”

“Piccolo’s Special Beam Cannon?”

“Special what now?”

“Y’know, that thing he does.”

“What thing?”

“You know the one. He gathers ki into his fingertips and shoots a straight blast that can pierce things. He killed me with it one time, when he fired it while I was holding my brother down. Raditz dodged in the nick of time, but I wasn’t so lucky.”

“Oh, I see what you mean. The Light of Death.”

“That’s what 21 calls it. It’s always been the Special Beam Cannon to the rest of us.”

“What’s so “special” about it, anyway? There’s lots of other techniques that can do the piercing thing.” (_Goku shrugs again_). “Whatever. I wanna learn everything you guys can teach me, Goku, but what I wanna learn most of all is…” (_Smiles with determination_). “Instant Transmission.”

_The Omni-King’s Realm…_

Zen-Oh signaled the Grand Priest to shut off the projector. With a friendly smile on his face, he then turned towards a pair of sitting feline figures, their features cloaked by darkness.

“Well? What do you think?”

A deep-voiced, battle-ready young fellow played with a toothpick. Having downed a martini and chewed on its complimentary olive, the first feline dropped the toothpick, left his seat, and cracked his knuckles. 

“Pathetic. Damn fool loses his godhood, first thing he does is make googly eyes at some girl. Talk about desperate[3].”

Whis was not amused. His expression stern, the Angel levitated the discarded toothpick and disintegrated it with a snap of his fingers.

“That “damn fool,” as you refer to him, is my former student and your predecessor. You would do well to respect him, Lord Negroni.”

“Apologies, Sensei.”

Letting out a loud belch, the older second figure apologized before extinguishing a thick cigar. Having repressed an impudent yawn, he left his seat with a stretch that accentuated his wide, muscle-gutted frame, much to Zen-Oh's and Grand Priest’s admiration.

“Gotta hand it to the boy, he has sweet taste. Maybe there’s still hope for the other one.” (_Flirty tone_). “As for Miss Anise, I wouldn’t mind givin’ her a lil’ bit of sweetness myself.” (_Chuckles_). Know what I mean?[4]”

(_Deadpan Whis is deadpan_). “Way to keep it classy, Lord Tusker.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna force her, Whis! You know I’m not about that!”

“I’m sure you tell them all the same thing.”

“Hey, they all enjoyed it.” (_Grins mischievously_). “Like _you_ did that evening.”

Whis’ face burned a sizzling purple. Leave it to his former charge to hit him where it hurt most.

“I told you to _never_ bring that up again! Really, Lord Tusker, is this the example you wish to set for Lord Negroni?”

(_Negroni cracks his neck_). “Don’t trouble yourself none, Sensei. I was raised better’n that.”

“What do you mean “better’n that”!? Who do you think you’re talking to, boy!?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, I got better things to do than cruise ‘round the galaxy looking for an easy lay.”

“Well, if you did every once in a while, maybe you wouldn’t always be walkin’ around like your underwear’s choking the life out of your rusty old cu…”

(_Whis stomps his foot_). “THAT’S ENOUGH! Lord Negroni, you are a Destroyer-in-training, and you, Lord Tusker, are a Hakaishin Emeritus. You’ll be free to snipe at each other once we’re outside of these halls. For now, you _will _behave in the presence of Grand Zen-Oh and the Grand Priest!”

(_Zen-Oh chuckles_). “It’s ok, Whis. I know they don’t really mean it… but I do have one question for you, Negroni.”

(_Licks the palm of his hand for a bit_). “Fire away, Boss.”

“What’re you gonna do when you meet Subject B?”

(_Negroni ponders briefly_). “Figure I’m gonna tell ‘im everything. Heck, ‘s why I’m puttin’ myself through all this hassle. After that? Guess I’ll challenge him to a fight, see if there’s any truth to the stories. From what I’ve seen, though, I reckon I’m headed for some major disappointment.”

“You do realize B’s condition is only temporary, right? He’ll regain himself soon, even if he won’t be anywhere near his prime for quite some time.”

“Like I care, Sensei. Once a Destroyer, always a Destroyer. Everythin’ else is bullshit.”

A proud Tusker put his arm around Negroni’s shoulder, much to the latter’s annoyance. The Hakaishin Emeritus hadn’t been in such good spirits for well over a century.

“You’re absolutely right, son. Whis, Your Eminence, Your Excellency, I can’t thank you enough for introducing me to this mighty fine hunk of male. He’s better than all my bastards, to say nothing of Okocim and Lanson! I don’t know what me and Brulle were thinking, letting them fuck-ups take over.”

(_Negroni brushes Tusker aside_). “[_Seriously!?_].Don’t tell me you’re blushin’.”

“Whatever. And here I thought I’d seen everything Universe 7 had to offer.”

“What, you already had your way with everything else that moves?”

“You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, boy!”

“I’m not your boy, old man.”

(_Grand Priest scowls_). “Enough! We've received transmission from Vados and Mojito indicating that their missions were successful. Subjects C and S have been brought to mortality and exiled to Earth along with B and Q, all according to Grand Zen-Oh’s plan.”

Negroni raised a puzzled eyebrow. The Father of Angels wasn’t one to dissemble. Not at a time like this.

“Your pardon, Excellency. The report stated Subject S was sighted at an island over a thousand miles away from his intended destination. On that note, I believe we should expedite his transfer to West City.”

Cool and unflappable, Grand Priest smiled. The stories he’d heard about this incipient Hakaishin did him no justice. He found it strangely comforting, how this young Sphygian shifted back and forth from joviality to solemnity, without a hint of duplicity or sycophancy, a far cry from the late Lord Beerus.

“We’ve already informed Goku’s friends. We’ll retrieve S and have him join the others before the end of the week. However, there were some… complications.”

“Complications?”

(_Zen-Oh chuckles awkwardly_). “Yeah, I sorta wiped his memory. My bad.”

“You did _what_!?”

“It was an accident, OK!?” (_Zen-Oh frowns_). “Long story short, I panicked and made one stupid mistake after another back in Universe 9. Guy’s a total screwup, but he didn’t deserve that. I promise I’ll rectify it.”

“Good to know. Any word about the missing candidate?”

“Still nothing regarding Subject R, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll do some recon in areas with last confirmed VR sightings. Those sons of bitches are bound to screw up sooner or later.”

(_Zen-Oh turns dead serious_). “No, you won’t.”

“Huh?”

“You are our secret weapon, Negroni. We can’t risk losing you to the Void like it happened with Jerez, Mule, Vermoud, all those warriors from across the Multiverse. Why, two days ago we received word that Geene and Arak haven’t been seen or heard from for over three weeks since the Void Realm attacked their universes.”

(_Negroni loses his shit, gesticulates accordingly_). “TWO DAYS AND THREE WEEKS!? YOU’VE KNOWN ABOUT THAT ALL THIS TIME AND YOU WAITED UNTIL **_NOW_** TO TELL ME!?”

“You were busy elsewhere. Burdening you with that information could have proved counter-productive, Lieutenant.”

“Counter-productive!? Had I known, I could’ve sent a convoy! Hell, we might’ve gotten lucky and located a base! We could’ve saved at least one of them!”

(_No-nonsense Zen-Oh is…_). “We don’t know that for certain. Had you done those things, you could have exposed yourself to the Void. I needn’t remind you what will happen if they get their hands on you, do I?”

“Noted. What are your orders?”

“Have your men scout the areas in question, but don’t go there yourself without _our_ express command. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“Dismissed.”

With that, Zen-Oh and Grand Priest took their leave. After they were gone, Negroni clutched his fists, seemingly oblivious to the blood that seeped through the palm of his hands, while Tusker coolly inspected his fingernails.

“This is ridiculous! Six Destroyers missing in less than a month, strange happenings throughout the universes, and we’re just sitting on our asses, talking and planning like we have all the fucking time in the world!”

“You can’t just barge into a war zone and expect to come out on top. You of all people know these things take planning. Tons of it.”

“The more time we waste, the more powerful those bastards become! If they keep this up, not even Zen-Oh himself will be able to stop them! You know what that means!”

“I don’t need a reminder, son. Look, you gotta have faith in the Omni-King and the Grand Priest. Trust me, they know what they’re doing. I’ve got eons-long experience to vouch for them.”

(_Negroni turns away_). “Whatever. Staying cooped up where it’s safe is hardly my style, anyway.”

(_Tusker smiles mischievously_). “Maybe a good one will take your mind off things for a while.”

“You ever think of anything _other_ than sex?”

“Hey, don’t knock until you’ve tried it!”

“I _have_. Way you keep goin’ on about it makes me wanna take up celibacy.”

“Whatever. You taste that drink they named you after? It’s delicious!”

(_Negroni heads out_). “Some other time.”

“Seriously, how’re we even related? I’ve never seen a bigger stick in the mud since those two fuck-ups!”

Negroni stopped in his tracks without turning toward Tusker. Concealed by penumbra, the young Sphygian flashed a cheeky half-smile.

“Guess it runs in the family.”

“You little…”

With that, the felines went their separate ways…

_The next day, 5:45 PM, Capsule Corp…_

Okocim readied for his imminent move-in with the Son family. While he would no longer be living with the Briefs, the ex-deity still had to report to the Medical Center once every week for psychology sessions, once a month with the psychiatrist, and at least three times a week for physical therapy.

The Sphygian was skeptical about this arrangement. Okocim didn’t see the point of sitting in front of a so-called expert for an hour or so just to whine about problems he himself didn’t understand all that well. The former Destroyer had woken up in a screaming panic almost every night since his undeification, scaring Bulma and her family out of their minds… yeah, so what? Leave it to humans to fuss over every little thing that goes wrong in life!

“[_Seriously, what is it with you guys? I have a coupla nightmares and you act like I broke every bone in my body or somethin’! What, none of you ever had night terrors? Guess your childhoods were a bowl of cream and catnip. You’re all special lil’ sand specks, so life threw itself at your feet and blew you on demand. Hard to believe this is the same universe that won the Tournament of Power. What the fuck am I ‘sposed to say, anyway?_].”

Okocim cleared his throat. After playfully waving at nobody, the cat man cleared his throat, made like he was giving somebody a handshake, drying ever-increasing sweat on his forehead.

“Hey Doc, how you doin’? Name’s Beerus, AKA Okocim, son of Lech. I used to be a god, destroyed planets for a living, was an all-around jerkass and bag of misery for over a billion years, till one day my boss had enough of my bullshit and booted my ass to this universe. Think you can fix my head some time before lunch?” (_Chuckles_). “Yeah, that’ll work. Poor schmuck will be like...” 

Clearing his throat again, the patient mimicked a stereotypical German accent. Since he didn’t know what mannerisms would suit the scene, Okocim settled for the hand-in-waistcoat, flapping the arm in question like a chicken wing every now and then.

“‘Vat do you mean, you used to be a gott!? Guten hiemel, man, you are nuttier than ze fruitcake! (_Pretends to scribble something on a notepad_). “‘Buy all zees prescriptions and take zem every day for the rest of your life. Vat, you don’t have ze insurance? Not _mein _fucking problem. Should’ve thought about zat before you went insane. Now get lost before I tell Mrs. Briefs to lock you up an’ throw away ze key.’” 

His throat cleared yet again, the scion of Artois turned his wit against his twin brother. Once he helped himself to a nearby pillow and fastened it to his body with an old leather belt, Okocim puffed up his chest and loosened his stomach muscles. A couple of breathing exercises later, the Sphygian emulated Champa’s <strike>grating</strike> childish tone of voice with remarkable accuracy.

“‘Better skip the formalities, Doc. My brother isn’t an asshat: he’s _the _asshat! You look up the word “asshat” in the dictionary, it shows a picture of him. See also “anorexic,” “bean pole,” “disappointment,” “disgrace,” “has-been,” “maniac,” “people who shouldn’t have been born,” “shame,” “should’ve worn a condom,” etc. Just ask our fa…’ NO!”

Belt and pillow discarded, Okocim came face to face with his reflection in a nearby mirror. Panting heavily, the Sphygian smiled creepily, gave himself the fig sign, followed by the finger, then looked away, seemingly unaware that his “image” snarled at him, hungrily licking its fangs from the other side of the glass.

Fed up with himself, the ex-Hakaishin headed to the bathroom and took a quick look in the mirror: there were only a few dispersed purple islets around Okocim’s face. His ears and nearly all his countenance were on the verge of assuming a dark sienna-like hue, the neck sported a burgeoning tint of dim gray he hadn’t seen in centuries. The former deity’s hands and feet were almost entirely drenched in that sienna, extending from slightly underneath the forearms and calves to the palms and soles, the gray largely widespread elsewhere, on the brink of extinguishing lingering purple remnants.

“[_Do I take after Mother? Father? Grandfather?_].” (_Okocim scowls_). “[_Hurry up already! Damn fuck-up can’t even turn mortal right!_].” (_Exhales a tired sigh, lays down on the bed_). “Not that bad a week, if I say so myself.” (_Big yawn_). “Goku won’t be here for a coupla hours. Guess some sleep wouldn’t hurt.”

The former Destroyer lost all notion of time as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, the kind that had been so hard to come by from his first day as a mortal. Soon after closing his eyes, the late Lord Beerus woke up with a start, hastily surveyed his surroundings: he wasn’t at the mansion anymore. Just then, a familiar dampness gradually took hold of him from the back of the head to the heels, leaving the Sphygian much discomfited.

“Did I have another accident?”

That wasn’t the case, though. Okocim wasn’t lying in a pool of urine this time around: he was floating in the ocean. The terrified cat man jumped back up, ready to swim for his life… yet the need never arose. Instead of sinking or bobbing up and down like driftwood, he was standing on water like it was dry land.

Wearing nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, the cat man walked several miles west, south, east, north, everywhere in between, his shoeless feet dripping wet in his wake. By his own estimation, Okocim must’ve been on the move for almost half a day, if the position of the blazing sun was anything to go by.

The fallen god grew worried. It would be evening soon. He didn’t want nightfall to catch him in the middle of nowhere, so far from Bulma, Goku, Capsule Corp, Anise… Anise!?

The ex-Hakaishin cleared his eyes several times, even washed his face repeatedly with saltwater. If his mind was playing a trick on him, it was a damn good one. The cat woman was there, alright, yet something was different.

“[_That’s funny. I don’t remember Anise being part fish_]_._”

“Okocim!”

The feline froze where he stood. Before he even knew it, Anise was already diving like a dolphin, swimming on her back right next to him.

“Fancy the weather?”

“Uh…”

Burning a bashful crimson, the Sphygian relaxed into another goofy smile by the time Anise walked up to him. Her legs looked like they’d always been there, the mermaid tail translated into a bright orange-red gown ever-flowing with the evening waves as the girl danced to the tune of drums. Her legs shifting in a triangular pattern, her arms and hands went with the flow whenever they weren’t holding on to Okocim, easing him into the next move, the next, the next, the next, the next… Before he knew it, Okocim’s mood shifted from lethargic to amused, from amused to captivated, from captivated to euphoric, from euphoric to piqued, from piqued to…

The felines looked over their shoulders, their ears twitching like they hosted a universe of ear mites. A faint thumping sound loomed somewhere on the horizon. They resumed their dance without delay, all but deaf to the approaching thumps. By the time the noise was at its peak, Okocim realized he was naked save for his boxer shorts, shrugged and dismissed it like the mere inconvenience it was.

Just when the noise was starting to grate on their ears, Anise threw herself over Okocim, engulfed him in a white-hot embrace. Completely nude by now, the two of them sank deeper into the ocean, circulating air with ever lengthier nuzzles turned kisses, kisses turned playful biting, biting turned glissandos, glissandos turned pizzicatos, pizzicatos turned adagios, adagios turned andantes, andantes turned allegros, allegros turned non tanto-assai-presto-presto assai-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-jolt-splash-splash-splash-splash…

“Beerus! Beerus, are you there!?”

Trunks’ frantic screaming and knocking spooked Okocim back into the real world some ten minutes into his nap. Having managed not to fall off the bed, the former deity felt an unpleasant dampness downstairs. He’d had an accident, alright…

“Beerus! Beerus, are you there!? Open up!”

Trunks? What did he want? Why was he knocking so loudly? No time for questions! The late Lord Beerus had a little death scene to cover up before the boy’s yelling attracted more unwanted attention.

“Be right there!”

Okocim hurriedly cleaned up, donned a fresh pair of underwear, then put his other clothes back on. Once he was dressed and the stirring in his nether regions had died down, the cat man opened the door to the mansion’s main hallway, where a very distressed and impatient Trunks awaited.

“Finally! What were you doing in there!?

The blushing cat man felt like melting into a puddle in a gutter somewhere. Since strangling the spawn of one’s host is generally frowned upon (not that he could do so, given his current state), Okocim switched to diplomacy.

“[_You little… you’d better have a friggin’ good reason for scaring me like this, kid!_]. What is it, Trunks? Did something happen?”

“It’s your brother! He’s in the Medical Center!”

Okocim iced over where he stood. He only heard “brother” and “Medical Center.” Anything else that might’ve followed went right over his head.

“Champa!? What happened to him!?”

“I think it’s the same thing that happened to you!”

The boy couldn’t get another word in. Having put on some tennis shoes, the gulping Sphygian swallowed his pride.

“Y-Yeah, uh, Trunks? Think you could give me a lift?”

“No way! Use your legs and walk, like everyone else!”

(_Stern, p__oints to his walking stick_). “Fine. Hope you’re not in a hurry.”

(_Trunks grumbles_).

_Later, at the Medical Center… _

Holding Okocim with both arms underneath his armpits, a scowling Trunks literally flew the feline into the building. Meanwhile, the artist formerly known as Beerus alerted alarmed personnel and visitors.

(_Halfhearted Okocim is…_). “Hey, how y’all doin’? Sorry ‘bout that. Make way. Comin’ through. Sorry, our bad… how y’all doin’?… sorry... so sorry…”

(_Blushing Trunks is…_). “This is so embarrassing…”

“Don’t you give lifts to Bulma and your grandparents all the time?” 

(_Trunks glowers_). “You really want me to answer that?” 

“[_Like **I’m** having the time of my stinking life…_]. Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but I still can’t fly on my own, my limp makes it hard for me to walk, and, like you, I wanna get there sometime this century. I’ll make it up to you somehow. I promise.”

“You can start by nevertalking about this again.”

“Deal.”

“Also, don’t ask for any more favors.”

“Fair enough.”

It didn’t take long to find the room where Champa, the newly deposed God of Destruction of Universe 6, laid unconscious, strapped to a respirator, breathing much too faintly for comfort as Bulma and Vegeta watched on either side of the bed. Okocim felt dizzy, began sweating all over, his mind numb to all notion of time and space. 

He was in Sekhmet, a child once again. Before training… before godhood… before Zen-Oh… before that day… 

Little Lanson was strewn about, crying, gasping for breath, dithering between life and death as servants came to his aid and Lady Afsnath conducted the ritual that had saved the boy so many times before. Meanwhile, a livid Lord Tusker stood on the sidelines, grumbling to himself, arms crossed against his chest. 

Young Okocim himself sat down on the floor, weeping in silence, nursing the most recent wound his father had inflicted on his countenance. The boy had it coming. He was a fuck-up, after all… but even fuck-ups pray in times of distress. Okocim beseeched whatever god would listen, pledged his very life, flesh, and blood so his twin wouldn’t go away forever… like _she_ did…

“LANSON!”

Okocim’s scream was still echoing through the hospital halls when he realized he was back in the present. Bulma, Vegeta, Trunks, passersby looked at him in shock, fear, annoyance, so many other emotions he didn’t even know existed. His body and mind on autopilot, the former deity rushed to Lanson’s side, only to collide against a veritable brick wall in human form. Looking up, the cat man growled at the visage of a stern, burly nurse. 

“Lemme through! That’s my brother!”

“You’re disturbing the patient, Sir. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“Don’t order me around, you overgrown ape! I wanna see my brother now!

“Sir…”

“Let him in.”

Vegeta signaled the nurse to back away. Okocim approached the bed as the nurse went about his duties. The Saiyan Prince seemed to dance between anger, frustration, and anxiety, while Bulma looked outside from a nearby window. Rather than worried, she looked exhausted.

“[_Damn it. Am I always such a pain in the ass?_].”

Okocim grew restless. He hobbled to Champa’s right as best he could, his mind and senses all over the place till he sat on an adjacent chair the nurse kindly offered him. It took Bulma sitting by his side to snap him out of his distraction.

(_Vegeta sighs_). “We don’t have a clue how or when he got here. The fellow who was with him said Champa was wondering the streets, that he looked lost, even dazed, then all of a sudden he started coughing and collapsed on the sidewalk. If you focus, you should be able to sense his energy, slippery as it is.”

“How is he? He… is he gonna…?”

(_Bulma turns to Okocim_). “It’s still too early to tell. He was hyperventilating when they picked him up. He had so much trouble breathing, we were afraid he wasn’t going to make it.”

(_Okocim ponders_). “Hyperventilating? Yeah, that checks out. Lanson used to do that when we were kids. Couldn’t run two minutes without falling down gasping for air. Had so many close calls, Mother and Father almost gave up on him reaching godhood. Hell, Mother had to give him a bit of Energy of Destruction just so he’d be able to train. Since the thing disappeared when he got the Energy, that means it came back when Zen-Oh…” 

Okocim put two and two together. Eyes trembling, brow sweating profusely, the elder twin angrily clutched his fists, deaf to Bulma’s and the nurse’s pleas as crimson blood stained the floor below. 

“Son of a bitch… THAT LITTLE SON OF A BITCH!”

Outburst barely over, Lanson started to hack. He was wheezing violently by the time the nurse ran out to fetch a doctor. 

“B-B-B-Beer… Beerus?”

(_Okocim speaks in an affectionate tone_). “I’m here, Lanson. You’re safe now.”

"W-W-Where... a-am... I?

"Capsule Corp Medical Center. You fainted in the street, Champ. Good thing they got you here just in time." 

“F-F-Fainted? I-I-I..." (_Notices something odd_). "B-B-B-Bro… y-y-your c-c-colors… a-a-are you…?” (_Okocim nods stoically_). “No…”

“You’re stammering, Champ. You haven’t done that since we were children.”

Lanson looked at himself, saw the respirator, the whole mess of machinery he’d been connected to, the one thing that spared him a one-way trip to Other World. The portly Sphygian wept. Not this! Anything but this! Not back to square one!

“B-B-Bee…?”

“I’m afraid _that’s_ back too. Sorry, bro.” (_Okocim turns to the Briefs_). “Mind givin’ us some privacy?” 

Bulma nodded, left with Vegeta and Trunks. Once they were alone, Okocim shambled a bit closer to the bed and softly held Lanson’s hand, taking great care not to injure him.

“Champa… did Zen-Oh do this to you? You don’t have to talk. Just nod or shake your head, ok?” (_Lanson nods_). “If I had to guess, he barged into your temple, said you and me were disappointments, that he couldn’t possibly fathom how the _great_ Afsnath Marnier and Tusker Artois could’ve sired two fuck-ups like us (pardon my language). That about right?” (_Nod). _“He then put on this big judgement-and-damnation act, took away your God ki and Energy of Destruction, exiled you to this here Earth in a flashy boom tube. Correct?” (_Nod_). “Can you fly, sense ki, do anything you could before?” (_Lanson shakes his head. Okocim frowns_). “Shit, man. He did it to me too. Even my limp’s back.”

(_Lanson takes a deep breath_). “Q-Q-Q-Quit-t-t-t-te…l-l-l-l…”

“Quitela? What about ‘im?”

“Z-Z-Z-Z-Zen-O-O-O-Oh s-s-said t-t-to… s-s-say h-h-hello… w-when w-w-we m-m-meet h-h-h-him.”

(_Okocim ponders_). “That means the Omni-King’s going after the damn rat, or he already has. Can’t say I feel sorry for Quitela, but then again, none of this makes any damn sense.”

(_The door opens. The nurse announces himself_). “Excuse me, Sir. The doctor is here.”

“Just a sec. Be right back, Champ. Stay strong, ok?” 

The hefty cat smiled and nodded as Okocim took his leave. Outside, he found Goku talking with the Briefs. Thank Supreme Kai. The cat man was in no mood for nonsense, especially of the apparating kind.

“Bulma just told me everything, Lord Beerus. Luckily I have some Senzu beans with me.”

Okocim nearly danced for joy. Could it be? Some respite at last? Would something go right for a change?

Really? That’s great! We can give some to Lanson and…”

(_Bulma shakes her head_). “I don’t think we should do that, Beerus.”

“Huh!? Why not!?”

An uncharacteristically grim Goku weighed in. Okocim swallowed hard. He couldn’t recall the last time the Saiyan had been this serious. 

“Senzu beans heal injuries, but they don’t work on illnesses. I ate one years ago, back when I got that heart disease, and it only made things worse. I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for Future Trunks and that medicine. Good thing you took samples before I drank it, huh, Bulma?”

Vegeta took over. There seemed to be some concern in his voice, perhaps even compassion. Today was just full of surprises, far as Okocim was concerned.

“Kakarrot’s right. It could be dangerous for him in the state he’s in now. We ought to wait until whatever he has stabilizes, and _then_ let him have one.”

(_Worried Bulma is..._). “Asthma. He has asthma, Vegeta. I recognized the symptoms.”

(_Okocim sighs, frowns_). “That’s what you guys call it, huh? It was rough on Lanson when we were growing up. The stammering was just icing on the proverbial shit cake (pardon my language). Don’t you have anything that can help him, Bulma?”

“We can give him medication and treatment once he pulls through. It’ll help deal with attacks and symptoms, but it won’t cure him.”

“Can’t we ask Shenron to… y’know, heal him?”

“That won’t work either. We talked with Dende a few months ago. He said he’s making some adjustments to the Dragon Balls after that whole Zamasu affair.”

“What kind of adjustments?”

“He didn’t say. He thinks it’ll require a full year, at the very least. Long story short, the Dragon Balls are unusable until further notice. I’m sorry, Beerus.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Great. Another option down the drain." (_Turns to Goku_). “Look, Goku, I… we’ll have to put off my moving in with you guys. I’m sorry. I really wanna go, but…”

(_Goku smiles kindly_). “I understand. Family comes first. I’ll keep visiting you in the meantime.”

(_Okocim swallows hard_). “Y-Yeah, about that… please don’t Instant Transmit around Lan—I-I mean Champa, will you? If there’s something he doesn’t need right now, it’s suffocating to death ‘coz he got scared by some crazy Saiyan who apparated the fuck out of nowhere (pardon my language). No offense, y’know.”

“None taken. I can give you some predominal lessons if you want.”

(_Okocim and the Briefs blink in confusion_). “Predominal?”

“Y’know, a crash course.”

(_Vegeta scoffs_). “I believe the term you’re looking for is “preliminary.” Idiot.”

(_Okocim smiles_). “Yeah, that’d be great. Just remember what I said, ok? No apparating in front of me or my brother.”

“Will do. Same time tomorrow, four hours before sunrise.”

(_Bulma steps forward_). “You two’ll have to take a raincheck on that one. Tomorrow I don’t have to go to work till later in the day, so I was thinking I should take you to see Piccolo and Dende at the Lookout, Beerus. Which reminds me: Piccolo said you should bring at least three to four weeks’ worth of clothes along.”

“Huh? What for?”

“He and Dende are working on a ritual to combat that presence. He thinks it’s unlikely the problem will be solved in one day, or even a week. Better safe than sorry.”

“Good to know. Think we can reschedule, Goku?

(_Goku ponders briefly_). “I dunno. I gotta head to market early tomorrow morning to sell my harvest. Chi-Chi also wants me to go to that parent-teacher conference at Goten’s school, so that’s like two more hours we won’t have. Why don’t you ask Piccolo to train you while you’re there?”

“You know I’m having trouble with ki control.”

“I know that, Lord Beerus. Tell ya what, I’ll pop over and ask him if he can get you started on fighting. Just basics for now. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to meet his new student.”

“[_New student?_]. Fine by me.”

“One question, though. What’s “apparating”?”

_The next day, 6:22 AM_…

“We’re here.”

The Capsule Corp hovercraft landed in the middle of the courtyard outside Kami’s Lookout, where Piccolo, Dende, and Mr. Popo awaited. Cane and luggage in hand, Okocim left the vehicle and assessed his surroundings.

“[_Incredible. To think I didn’t notice it until now. How the fuck does the Lookout stay up in the air, suspended on that itty-bitty stick? Universe 7 Earthlings, they never cease to amaze me_].”

“Hello, Beerus.”

Piccolo stepped forward. His tone friendly, his expression ill at ease, he offered their newest guest a handshake. Smiling sheepishly, Okocim shook the Namekian’s hand.

“[_Wow… firm handshake you got here, green man. Either that, or I’m in worse shape than I thought_]. H-Hi, uh, Piccolo. How’s 21?”

Piccolo grumbled to himself, yet otherwise maintained a close-to-neutral expression. The occurrence raised more than a few red flags in the Sphygian’s mind. 

“[_Something’s definitely bothering him. Probably my fault. Note to self: do extra chores while I’m here_].”

“He’s fine. Out in the wilderness, training my newest students.”

“[_Students? But Goku said…_].”

(_Dende politely bows_). “Welcome, Lord Beerus. We have a message for you.”

“A message?”

(_Mr. Popo hands Okocim a small sandalwood box_). “Actually, it’s a parcel.” 

The lid bore a carving of the _kanji_ worn by U7’s Kais. Upon opening it, Okocim found a diminutive pouch and a letter which read as follows:

_Shin, Supreme Kai of the Seventh Universe by decree of Zen-Oh All-Sovereign, greets Okocim Lech-Sa, formerly God of Destruction Lord Beerus XXVII, son of Tusker, of the Noble and Distinguished House of Artois, from Planet Sekhmet of the Eleventh Universe. Peace and health to you and yours._

_The Grand Priest has informed me of your undeification. I know we were not on friendly terms, but I never wished misfortune upon you. Please accept my sympathy and aid in your time of need._

_There is a crisis looming over the Multiverse, one which you and others like you will have to surmount. Ancient enemies have awoken from their slumber. Their machinations threaten your fellow Destroyers along with all the Universes. That is all I can say for the moment. You shall learn more when Grand Zen-Oh deems it convenient._

_The Omni-King has already confirmed your successor as Hakaishin of Universe 7. Grand Priest forbade discussing the matter with you, Son Goku, or his friends. However, I have met him several times. I fear he may not harbor the best of intentions as far as you are concerned. Be on your guard. _

_Enclosed you will find a small box within a silken pouch, containing a gift that should prove useful. Kindly give my regards to Goku and company. I, Supreme Kai Shin, take my leave. Peace and health to you and yours._

Pocketing the letter, Okocim opened the smaller box, which contained yet another surprise from U7. A pair of all too familiar jewels gleamed beneath the morning sunlight.

“[_Shin… thought he’d hate my guts by now_]. Potara earrings.”

Mr. Popo invited the group inside the temple. Once they left the main hall, Dende and Popo escorted Okocim through a series of torch-lit corridors after the latter entrusted the earrings to Bulma. At that time, Piccolo showed the Earthling to a smaller room not far from the entrance.

“Wait here, Bulma. We’re going to lock the door behind us. Once the ritual begins, we must follow it through until the end. I already warned you, but it bears repeating: no matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you mustn’t go deeper inside without Dende, Popo, or me to guide you. If you feel you’re in danger, run back outside. Don’t go looking for us. Do you understand?”

Bulma nodded. Once Piccolo reached the center of the temple, he entered a vast, circular room, where the Guardian of Earth awaited while Mr. Popo cleaned and lit one-hundred and eight cobwebbed candles. Legs crossed, eyes shut, Okocim sat on top of a red _kanji _symbol resembling the crest worn by the Guardians of Earth. 

(_Okocim scratches himself_). “So… what now? Do I chant a mantra or something?”

(_Dende sits to the right_). “Not at all. Just relax and focus on your breath.”

(_Piccolo sits to the left_). “You’re going to have all kinds of thoughts running around. Don’t resist them, but don’t run away with them, either. Acknowledge them, then let them go.”

Once they shut their eyes, the Namekians began chanting in their native language. Mr. Popo watched silently as the Guardian’s sigil started to glow and Okocim’s breathing became irregular, then regular again.

“Easier said than done… [_B__reathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… Concentrate, Okocim… focus. Forget Champa… Mother… Grandfather… Sappora… I… I… no… focus on the breath… Father… Father is always here… he… no… he’s not here… not any more… get… get away… no… get away… don’t… don’t hit me… don’t hurt me… Okocim… thy name… Okocim Lech-Sa… thou art… thou art… once a Destroyer… always a… no… no… NO!_]. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, YOU LITTLE FUCK-UP! "

Beerus’ eyes trembled under a deluge of sweat. They became bloodshot as he foamed at the mouth, jumped to his feet, and bumped against an invisible wall, all while yelling in an otherworldly, gravel-like tone, much to the terror of the Namekians and their assistant.

"RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME, DAMN YOU! RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME OR TASTE DAMNATION!”

A panicking Dende and Mr. Popo huddled against each other. Having regained self-possession, Piccolo stepped toward the monster as the disgraced Destroyer screamed in an unknown language, then snickered scornfully when he saw the taller Namekian’s eyes on him.

“Who are you?”

“Do you not recognize your god!? I am Hakaishin Beerus, fool! I have the blood of myriads in mine hands. Appease me lest thou incur mine righteous…”

“Drop the charade.”

“What!?”

“I see right through you, impostor. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Beerus the Destroyer. Now relinquish that vessel: it does not belong to you.”

“You dare blaspheme mine presence, slug!? I shall redden mine heels underneath your blood, then shall I claim thy frame for mine own!” 

The trapped monster kept on yelling, began to power up, gathered, blasted ki everywhere. When that had no effect, it bludgeoned the unseen barrier, nearly broke Okocim’s hands and feet punching, kicking, shooting, doing everything in its power to break the magic seal.

“Dende, Popo!”

The trio shut their eyes, started a solemn chant in the Namekian language, ignoring the heart-rending screams and curses overflowing from the mouth of “Beerus." Soon afterward, their energies coalesced, infiltrated the barrier, washed over the demon like a silvery crescent wave during high tide. At that moment, the fiend roared an earth-shattering scream, cracking the entirety of the floor and walls.

(_Piccolo gestures at Dende and Popo_). “NOW!”

“PURITY SURGE! DIVINE CLEANSING WAVE!”

The nearby candles melted into an argent, translucent serpentine flame, which shot through the room like a whirlwind, concentrated at the rooftop, exactly above the center of the demon’s head. The conflagration assumed the form of a lotus flower in full bloom, broke through the faltering seal, entered Beerus’ body through the mouth, eyes, nose, and ears. Screaming an unholy, heaven-crushing scream, the former god collapsed as his prison overflowed with dense smoke, the barrier shattered and faded from the physical world. 

After the smoke dissipated, the trio spotted an unconscious Okocim. His flesh smothered in ashen grey, the fire’s entry points still giving off smoke, the ex-Hakaishin was practically naked, his body a citadel of first, second- and third-degree burns, particularly around the face. Upon confirming he was still alive, Dende summoned his healing magics, undoing the scarring on Okocim as well as the damage to his clothes.

(_Piccolo picks up Okocim_). “Take him to the guest room, Popo. Apply the potions and salves. Stay with him until I return.”

The assistant nodded, summoned his magic carpet, then flew away once the patient was safely in place. An approaching Dende swallowed hard.

“Is this wise, Piccolo? What if… what if Lord Beerus can’t control himself? What if he goes rogue? You and the others couldn’t even scratch him last time you fought, and now we have _him _and four other warriors to deal with. If things go according to plan, they’ll be over a thousand times stronger than when they were gods. Should they become a threat…”

“I’m aware of the risks, Dende. So are the Omni-King and his people. It won’t be long before Zen-Oh’s seals fail and the Void Realm attacks the other Universes, including our own. We can’t sit around and wait for Beerus and the others to regain their powers the slow and steady way. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it has to be done.”

“I see. Any news about Subjects S and R?”

“Last I heard, Nappa, Raditz, Lavender and Basil were on their way to Bogle Island, where Subject S was sighted after Zen-Oh’s little mishap.”

“Is it true, then? Did Subject S really lose his memory?"

“He doesn’t even remember his name. The worst part is, the Omni-King doesn’t know how to undo the botched spell.”

“So S lost his godhood, fighting abilities, and memories, and he’s stuck in Universe 7 forever?”

(_Piccolo nods_). “There’s something else. The latest report states S has started to… mutate.”

“Mutate?”

“The details were sketchy. It said S’s teeth are becoming, and I quote, “feral,” that he’s growing “an abnormal amount of body hair.” It also mentions he’s developed "a habit of eating raw meat," and when he speaks, his voice "sounds like a growl." And the strangest part? The report claims it wasn’t Zen-Oh’s doing.”

“Do you really believe that? (_Piccolo doesn't answer_). “Any word about the missing candidate?”

“Haven’t heard from Krillin, 17 and 18, so I assume there’s still no trace of Subject R.” (_Scowls_). “The least I say about _our _newest recruit, the better.”

“I see…”

“Let’s go. We have our work cut out for us.”

_Later that afternoon…_

A barefooted Okocim heaved and panted after ten minutes of performing a _kata_. Having grabbed a nearby towel and a bottle of water, the feline sat down with his legs crossed and focused. He was not alone.

“Is someone there?”

Piccolo stepped out to the courtyard. Okocim stood up, a wide smile on his face.

“Feeling better?”

“Yep. Feels so good to be able to walk without my cane, feel the ground beneath my feet and all that. Can’t wait to start training for real.”

“You should be resting. That ritual did a number on you. You’d be a wreck if not for Dende.”

Having dropped to the floor, Okocim started doing pushups. He barely made it to ten.

“[_Note to self: thank the kid soon as I see ‘im_]. Yeah, no kidding.” (_Stands up_). “Been lying on my ass way too long. Gonna turn into freakin’ Champa if I don’t get some exercise. Don’t tell ‘im I said that.”

“You still gotta take it easy. It’ll be a while before you’re back to a hundred percent.”

“Unless I somehow become a god again, I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

“I was talking about your training. Which reminds me: Bulma got an emergency call and left in a hurry.”

(_Okocim grabs Piccolo’s collar_). “What happened!? Is Champa ok!? Did Bulla get hurt!? What…!?”

(_Piccolo gently removes Okocim’s hands_). “Whoa, whoa, calm down!” (_Regains composure_). “She said it was work-related. That’s about it. Also, Goku will be busy for the next couple of weeks, so he asked me to take over your training for a while.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

“I’m not one to meddle, Beerus. Goku wouldn’t take all that time off if he didn’t think it was necessary. You know how serious he is about helping you.”

(_Okocim shrugs_). “Hey, long as I can train, it’s fine by me. Thanks for letting me crash here, by the way. I owe you guys big time. [_Maybe Vegeta will forget about that incident in the dining room while I’m gone… hopefully_].”

“Don’t mention it. We'll be conducting follow-up rites, make sure that… presence doesn’t stir up any more trouble.”

“Right. I got a question, though. Who’s your new student?”

(_Piccolo raises an eyebrow_). “You mean 21? He’s been with us for years now.”

(_Okocim is not amused_). “You know who I’m talkin’ about.”

(_Piccolo thinks things over_). “It’s true. 21 and I, we’re... we’re training Shu.”

(_Okocim blinks in confusion_). “Who’s Shu?”

“You’ve seen him around Capsule Corp. Hangs around Mai and Pilaf.”

“Not ringing any bells.”

“The Shiba Inu kid who dresses like a ninja and carries a sword.”

“Really? How’d _he_ end up with you guys?”

“Shu and friends have been living with the Briefs for over a year now. They just showed up one day, said they had nowhere else to go. Bulma couldn’t find any relatives or information, so she took them in.”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “Showing kindness to a buncha hooligans. That’s so Bulma.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whis told me about it a coupla days after my fight with Goku. From what I gathered, those three used to be enemies of Goku and company back in the day, tried to wax ‘em a few times, then they had the <brilliant> idea of freeing the evil side of the former Guardian of Earth from his imprisonment. No prices for guessing how that turned out.”

“They also used the Dragon Balls to become young.” (_Stifles a chuckle_). “Seems Shenron had a bit of fun with that wish. Read about it in the Lookout Archives.”

“[_Archives? I wonder…_]. Speaking of Shenron… is it true? Are the Dragon Balls really out of commission?”

Dende reached the courtyard, followed by Mr. Popo. Neither of them seemed to be in a particularly cheery mood.

“Yes, Lord Beerus. After the Zamasu Incident, Piccolo and I thought it best to completely remove Shenron’s ability to manipulate minds. Furthermore, the Eternal Dragon can no longer grant wishes that involve taking control of others. That includes body-switching as well as tampering with emotions and neurological disorders like depression and autism.”

“Fine by me. You think Shenron could rid me of the unwanted guest in my head later on, though? While we’re at it, I’d like to see if he can cure Champa’s as… asp… asthmthd…”

[_Piccolo tries not to laugh_]. “Asthma?”

“Yeah, that.”

“That’s highly unlikely, my Lord. While Shenron can perform exorcisms, the creature you speak of exceeds my power, so his magic won’t affect it. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Crap.”

“As for your second request, it seems it won’t be necessary. We’re preparing a ritual like the one we performed today. Since it healed your limp, it should also do away with your brother’s illness.”

(_Okocim smiles_). “[_Finally, some good news!_]. Thank you for everything, Dende. You guys’ve really made my day.” (_Yawns loudly_). “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

(_Piccolo smiles_). “We’ll help the two of you anyway we can, Beerus, but right now you need to rest. You should be feeling better by tomorrow morning.”

“Four hours before dawn?” (_Piccolo nods_). “Cool. See you then.” (_W__alk away_).

“Dinner’s almost ready. You should eat something first.”

“I’ll have a bite, but I’m really not all that hungry, Mr. Popo. In the meantime, guess I’ll give Champa a ring.”

With that, the Sphygian took his leave…

* * *

[1] Possible V.A’s: Ashley Schroeder (Iris, _Mega Man X4: The Death of Iris - Redub by Lucas Gilbertson (Original)_ [YouTube], Jennifer Stigile-Magallanes (Jean, _Lunar: Eternal Blue_, _Lunar 2: Eternal Blue Complete_), Rhonda Gibson (Luna Noa, _Lunar: The Silver Star_ et al., albeit with a more Dark Althena-like tone), Dawn M. Bennett (Lilac, _Freedom Planet_), Jeannie Tirado (Byleth Eisner ~Female~, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_).

[2] Possible V.A.’s: Jack McBrayer (Badili, _The Lion Guard_), Yuri Lowenthal (Superman/Clark Kent, _Legion of Superheroes_ et al.), Ashley Parker Angel (Alex Noa, _Lunar: The Silver Star_, _Lunar: Silver Star Story_), Christian La Monte (Ignatz Victor, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_).

[3] Possible V.A.’s: Roscoe “Rocky” Carroll (Derek “Talon” Maza, _Gargoyles_), Michael Luwoye (Askari_, The Lion Guard_).

[4] Possible V.A.’s: Clancy Brown (Lex Luthor, _Superman: The Animated Series_), Kevin Michael Richardson (various).


	5. Ancient Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geene and Arak meet the other vanquished Destroyers, encountering an unlikely ally in the process.

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences **

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 5: Ancient Memories

_The Void Realm…_

“I can’t believe it. Not _them_, of all people.”

“Those bastards are unstoppable. They never stood a chance.”

“They look so… miserable.”

“Right, and _we’re _having the time of our fucking lives. By the way, you still haven’t explained why you took off like that.”

“Vermoud, I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It means I don’t know, ok? Look, something… something told me to go. That’s about it.”

“There must be more to it. You’re not one to act irrationally, Mule.”

“Jerez is right.” (_Vermoud takes a shallow breath_). “Something stinks here.”

“That would be mold and dust. Papyrus and leather rot easily.”

“That’s not what I meant. I…”

“Quiet, you two! He’s waking up!”

Geene opened and shut his eyes a good three times before he managed to sit up. The former Hakaishin from Universe 12 recognized Jerez, Vermoud, and Mule, Gods of Destruction from Universes 2, 11, and 3, standing before him, but felt there was something off about them. 

The Kualuan spoke. He wanted to ask so many questions, yet no sound left his nonexistent lips. Nearly overcome by vertigo, Geene soon realized his suspicions were warranted. Despite the blurriness which had taken over his eyesight after the duel with Mate, what little he saw unnerved him so much, he nearly fainted. 

Dressed in kimonos similar to the ones Geene and Arak wore, the trio from the Second, Third, and Eleventh Universes had almost all muscle and body fat drained from them so that they resembled desiccated, reanimated corpses rather than living beings, let alone Destroyer Gods. Wearing dust-blocking masks around their mouths and noses, they were right at home inside a ruined ancient library caked with dust and mold, filled with thousands of tomes slightly less repulsive than century-old tuna. 

“Geene… a-are you alright?”

Mule approached the new arrival. The Kualuan made as if to back away, but he could barely move an inch. Betrayed by his weakened body, Geene braced himself for a world of pain… yet the pain never came.

“W-What’s wrong? It’s me, Mule, from Universe 3. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Geene squinted at the fallen Hakaishin. Of all the beings he could’ve been trapped with, why did it have to be _him_? Either he was being punished for long forgotten sins, or Zen-Oh decided to have some mean-spirited fun at his expense.

“[_Now there’s a face not even a mother could love. Damn Chertenokian looks uglier than usual, alright, but that’s not…_]."[1]

(_Mule blinks nervously_). “G-Geene? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

“[_Fuck’s wrong with your eyes, nerd? They’re bigger than…_].”

The Kualuan took a closer look by the time his eyes finally recovered. Geene couldn’t believe his eyes: Mule wasn’t so much a shadow of his former self than he was the speck of a speck of dust. Yet that wasn’t what captivated the fish man’s attention. At last Geene realized what was amiss with the little guy: a pair of oversized glasses taped to his temples, which made Mule’s eyes look positively enormous. The Kualuan stifled a laugh, then another one, and another one…

(_Mule puts two and two together_). “It’s the glasses, isn’t it?” 

Geene pointed at Mule, burst out in raucous laughter, an odd spectacle in and off itself, since the Destroyer of U12 wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, let alone friendliness. Stranger still, he made little to no sound, much to Mule’s puzzlement.

“That’s weird. When did you take up miming?” (_Collective anime face-faulting ensues_).

When he next breathed, Mule perceived an unpleasant odor, different to the moldy stench prevalent in the cursed library. The Chertenokian recoiled, became dizzy under a prolonged retch he managed to repress, albeit not without leaving a foul taste in his mouth. 

“Черт! What’s that smell?[2]”

Once he calmed down, Geene reclined his head against his knees. He was facing downward by the time Arak groaned his way back into the waking world. The sight of three former deities backing away from him as they covered their muffled mouths told Zumot all he needed to know. 

“Oww… w-where… where am I? Solera… Zevion… Belsazar… are you guys alright?”

(_Vermoud looks away_). “We’ll live. No offense, man, but you stink. Literally.”

(_Arak frowns_). “I can’t help it. I... I was born like this.” (_Weeps_). “Geene and I fought Mate. We lost. I’m so sorry.”

(_Vermoud shakes his head_). “Don’t beat yourselves up. Mate’s sister, Chifir, she fucked the _three_ of us up without breaking a sweat. Hell, Ganlu, the Numen who captured me, he tossed Marcarita and Khai like a salad, floored Toppo with a single backhand. A backhand! Gods know what they’re doing to him, Jiren, the others...”

(_Mule frowns_). “Lady Sencha, she… she petrified Priccio, Narirama, Nigrissi, Paparoni, breezed through my temple’s defenses like it was nothing. Luckily, I talked her out of killing Camparri and the rest of my warriors, let her take me and Mosco… all so Chifir could tear ‘im a new one. If I could just figure out where they're holding them, I might be able to..." (_Miserably sighs_). “Never mind.”

(_Jerez wipes tears from her eyes_). “Sour and my warriors tried to protect me when Mulaban barged into my temple. We fought him together, but it wasn’t enough. He would have killed Brianne, Harmira, Jimizu and the others if I hadn’t surrendered. Heaven knows what those fiends have planned for them...”

(_Arak looks up_). “I entered my temple and found Lahpeth waiting. He’d beaten up Cukatail within an inch of his life, said he wouldn’t hurt anybody else if I gave myself up. Being a complete and utter moron, I didn’t listen. Son of a bitch had my ass on a sling in a matter of seconds. Luckily, he still spared Cukatail and Universe 5, unlike…”

Geene looked away. The Kualuan was near tears by the time a shambling Jerez crouched to his height,

“Geene? What’s wrong?”

(_Mournful Arak is…_). “Universe 12 wasn’t so lucky. That bastard Caron started a massacre on Planet Dagon. He’d killed thousands by the time Geene and his Agents of Destruction arrived. Geene fought him, held his own for a while, but Caron turned the tables, used this technique, made acid or something fall from the sky, wiped out pretty much everybody still alive, including his own men. Son of a bitch even bit Martinu when she tried to help Geene. Gods know if she... if she’s still alive.”

(_Mule steps forward_). “Arak… Geene hasn’t said a word since he woke up. Did… did something else happen?”

(_Arak sighs_). “Geene, he… he lost the ability to speak, Zevion. He’s been like that since Mate undeified us. Now please…” (_Crosses his legs_). “...no more questions.”

The five vanquished warriors sat nearby, spent what seemed like an eternity in almost total quiet. Save for the sound of Mule and Jerez turning pages from books they’d found, nothing disturbed the mold-enshrouded silence within the halls. Still sickened by Arak’s stench, yet too tired to move farther away or do anything besides cover their faces with long kimono sleeves, the other fallen deities nodded off and awoke intermittently.

Oyzo’s mind got busy despite his best efforts. So much death and suffering across the universes, all because of a warrior who made a well-meaning but reckless wish. Sure, all of Creation would’ve been doomed regardless had that Android 17 fellow given in to selfishness, yet eternal oblivion was arguably preferable to whatever Mate and company had in store for the Multiverse. The fucking Lost Universes… who would’ve thought that ancient legend would turn out to be true, let alone that it would come back to screw him and his fellow Destroyers over? 

The Kualuan let his mind wander. Ordinarily, Oyzo would sit down and meditate whenever he was troubled, yet now he had no inclination to do so. His divinity, powers, fighting skills, the very strength of his body, lost forever, because he was too weak, because he wasn’t smart or wise enough, because his best wasn’t good enough. 

Good enough? It wasn’t even passable! Lord Bonak would literally die of laughter when he found out, and he’d been in Other World for centuries! Martinu would shake her head in disapproval, as if saying “What were we thinking? We should have left you in the gutter where we found you.” Ag would certainly mourn the fall of God of Destruction Lord Geene XXII, heir of Bonak, of the Noble and Distinguished House of Terroir, but not even he would shed a tear for Oyzo Roku. Why should he? Why should anybody?

“[_‘Your feelings don’t matter. Your wants don’t matter. Your desires don’t matter. Only Universe 12 matters.’ That’s what you taught me, Lord Bonak. All those centuries, all that work… all for nothing. This is how your legacy ends, Sensei. You should’ve Hakai’d me when you had the chance_].”

Oyzo thought back to a conversation he had with Martinu over a millennium ago, before he officially joined his predecessor’s Agents of Destruction. He’d spent the previous months in harrowing training, hoping all that work and pain would earn him Bonak’s notice. His body aching, his mind weary, exhaustion got the better of Oyzo, and he committed the ultimate sin: he asked a question from his Master’s attendant. Clad in a heavily battered _gi_, the floor underneath his bandaged feet wet with his blood and sweat, the Kualuan, a pre-teen at the time, inelegantly raised his hand.

“L-L-Lady Martinu? I-I have a question. I-It’s about the Lost Universes.”

(_Martinu smiles kindly_). “Is that so? What would you like to know?”

(_Oyzo tugs at his shirt collar_). “I-Is it true? D-Did Grand Zen-Oh really erase them?”

(_Deadpan Martinu is…_). “Yes, it’s true. There were once eighteen universes under the rule of Zen-Oh All-Sovereign, yet now there are only twelve.”

Oyzo swallowed hard, kept tugging at his shirt collar. How could the Angel recall such events so calmly, so nonchalantly? Is this what being an Agent of Destruction meant? Would he be able to bring untold devastation to others without flinching? Surely that would be a good thing… right?

“W-What happened? I-I ain’t questioning the Omni-King’s wisdom or nothin’. Just… why?”

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest. Some say the King of All purged them in a moment of anger. Others claim such universes had become a serious threat to the All-Cosmos itself. Efforts of averting crisis proved futile, so therefore…” (_Oyzo sweats uneasily_). “You shouldn’t trouble yourself about matters that don’t concern you, Salmer Khaitan. You’ll have enough work and strife to last you over a thousand lifetimes here in Universe 12. For the sake of this universe and your own health, I admonish you to banish such idle thoughts from your mind. Meditation should prove most efficient on that regard.”

Salmer’s face blushed a mortified crimson. He’d done again: he made an ass of himself in front of one of the three most important people in his life. The aquatic youth swiftly bowed, anxious to initiate damage control.

“I-I apologize, Lady Martinu. I-I’ll be more mindful from here on.”

(_Martinu smiles again_). “You needn’t apologize, young one. It’s natural to be curious about such things. As long as your curiosity poses no danger to you or the universe you will one day shepherd, I see nothing wrong with it.” (_Ponders briefly_). “And Salmer? You shouldn’t be so… deferential towards me.”

(_Salmer straightens himself_). “D-Deferential?”

“I am your teacher now, but I might be your attendant one of these days. You must get used to giving orders, just as you have grown used to obeying them. Anything less is unbecoming of a Destroyer, as Lord Bonak says.”

(_Salmer bows again_). “I-I understand. Thank you, Lady Martinu.”

Come to think of it, what had his predecessor seen in that worthless street urchin Oyzo Roku-slash-Salmer Khaitan once was? Sure, he’d been a strong fighter despite his young age, but that was expected of anyone from Universe 9 who wanted to make it to thirty, a lesson young Salmer’s parents must’ve failed to heed, since he had yet to uncover the slightest trace of them. So many times had the trainee Agent wanted to ask Martinu and Bonak for any scrap of knowledge they might have, but bit his tongue lest the Angel and her charge should think he wanted to bail on his new life and return to that shithole. 

The Ninth Universe, including his adopted planet Enbi, always seemed to be mired in some turmoil or other. Nobody, not even Gods of Destruction, could get its inhabitants out of their proverbial rut. Hell, if Salmer was thankful for something, it was that being from said universe disqualified him from serving as its Destroyer. He would be sent somewhere else, while some other poor dope would end up stuck with a mess not even the Omni-King himself would’ve touched at this point. 

Therefore, the Kualuan didn’t feel that sad when his universe of origin was erased during the Tournament of Power. Salmer saw no other solution to a problem that had already snowballed out of control long before the parents of _his _parents (<strike>whoever they were</strike>) were born. It also helped that the fishman had severed all ties and allegiances to U9 when he ascended as Hakaishin of U12. Moreover, he’d been so efficient and diligent in continuing Bonak’s work, his adopted universe was exempted from the Tournament and the all too real risk of erasure. 

Still, Salmer couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Sidra, son of Bantam, of House Blackthorn. The Heranian was as weak-hearted and incompetent a Destroyer as they came, but not even he deserved such a fate. Sympathy… and here Salmer thought he’d long since outgrown that pesky mortal habit.

“Geene…” 

Arak’s voice brought the Kualuan back to reality. The Calamantian cautiously approached the ex-deity from U12 and placed a hand on the latter’s shoulder, looked at him as if to ask “how’re you holding up?” There they were, still undeified, still reduced to the barest minimum of life, or rather a horrid mockery of it. 

It wasn’t a dream. What was it, then? A punishment? What had Salmer, Zumot, and all the others done to so displease the Omni-King? Wasn’t that scare with the Tournament enough admonishment for everybody to toe the proverbial line? What else could it be? A practical joke only someone like Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, and the Angels would find funny? 

Not likely. Far as Salmer knew, he and Zumot were among the few beings who were in on the King of All’s dirty little secret: the sadistic, irritable brat most others had to deal with was just an act. If Zen-Oh intended to have some mean-spirited fun at the expense of inferior deities, why would he target two of the four who were exempt from the Tournament? Wouldn’t it make more sense to go after the three screwups from U2, 3, and 11, after those sons of bitches named Beerus, Champa, Quitela, Rumush, and Sidra? 

Had the Omni-King planned this all along? Was he unhappy with the way the Multiverse was run and decided to press the reset button? Merciful gods, no! Maybe it was a secret test of character, an impromptu training exercise, or some other bullshit excuse he and Grand Priest came up with to justify their conduct toward ephemeral lives which in their eyes mattered little more than ants. After all, they were the most powerful beings in the Multiverse, beholden to nothing, to no one. Grand Priest himself loved his children, and that was it. Everyone, everything else was expendable.

As Salmer mutely sighed, Zumot’s mind returned to that fateful day eons ago. The Hakaishin from Universe 5 had dropped by Universe 12 along with Cukatail and Ogma for a visit to his dear friend, God of Destruction Lord Bonak XXXI, heir of Nolet, of the Noble and Distinguished House of Terroir. The Calamantian remembered it like it was yesterday. Martinu and a young Ag emerged from inside the temple, bowed before the Hakaishin from Universe 5 and his Attendant as Martinu greeted.

“Greetings, Lord Arak.”

(_Cukatail steps forward_). “Greetings, Supreme Kai Ag, dear sister. Supreme Kai Atmo humbly apologizes for his absence. He and his fellow Kais are currently busy restoring ravaged planets after the recent crisis in Universe 5. Therefore, he has sent Grand Kai Ogma as his representative.”

(_Ogma politely smiles_). “Lord Ag, Lady Martinu, it is an honor to meet you.” 

(_Martinu smiles solemnly_). “Likewise. Lord Bonak is conducting a drill with his pupils as we speak. He apologizes for the delay and will join us shortly.” 

At that moment, Ag and Martinu picked up an energy reading belonging to a mortal, who happened to be standing right behind them. Though briefly annoyed, the Angel looked to her back with a gentle smile.

“What are you doing here, little one? I told you to remain in your chambers.”

(_Ag smiles_). “Why, I believe our friend wants to greet our guests himself, milady. Isn’t that right, dear Oyzo?” 

(_Young Salmer scowls_). “D-Don’t… c-c-call… m-m-me… that.” 

(_A mortified Ag blushes_). “Oh, how careless of me! My apologies, young one!” 

(_Martinu turns to Salmer_). “You stand before God of Destruction Lord Arak XXIV, son of Ksarak, of the Great and Eminent House of Gat.”

(_Salmer points at Arak_). “He… he… Balance… Universe?”

(_Ag smiles approvingly_). “That is correct, young one. Pray tell, which universe is that?”

(_Salmer lowers his arm_). “F-F-F-Five.” 

(_Martinu is not impressed_). “You must bow before Lord Arak, his Attendant, and Grand Kai. It is meet for mortals to do so.” (_Salmer does not comply_). “Salmer…”

Arak was puzzled, to say the least. Behind the pair stood a teal-colored amphibian little boy, a Kualuan, to be specific. The new arrival was no older than eleven, stood almost five feet tall, was dressed in a child-sized version of the eminence purple/dark blue _gi _issued to Bonak’s pupils. The dirty bandages the boy wore around his sinewy arms, hands, legs and feet monopolized the deity’s attention. Salmer had spent much of the day in grueling martial arts training, if the sweat and blood-stained gauze was to be believed. 

In addition to fighting, meditation, and a thorough education in logic, rhetoric, grammar, music, astronomy, arithmetic, geometry, and other sciences, prospective Agents of Destruction at U12 were taught the finer points of etiquette, particularly concerning the countless greater and lesser deities spread across the Multiverse. Then again, knowing Bonak as well as he did, Arak wasn’t surprised that one of his students showed such blatant disregard for protocol, as the heir of Nolet didn’t care much for “that frilly crap” himself, as he put it. 

Salmer’s brown eyes met Arak’s. The Calamantian sensed they were overflowing with… fear? Shame? Pain? No. All of these, countless other emotions the Destroyer had seldom felt in someone so young. Who was this child? Where did he come from? What possessed Bonak to take this knavish whelp in as his student, when he had plenty of highborn youths to choose from? What was that crazy Asurendran up to?[3]

Suddenly, a man’s deep, booming voice yawned from inside the temple. Its owner, a gigantic, red-skinned humanoid, emerged soon after, turned stern upon noticing Salmer.

“Sorry I’m late, guys. The boys’re being shitheads as usual, and—the fuck’re you doin’ here, boy?[4]”

A deferential Ag thought fast as he approached the God of Destruction of Universe 12. He needed a good cover story, and he needed it now.

“My apologies, Lord Bonak. I am the one to blame for this small misunderstanding. You see, I thought it would be a good idea to take Oy—Salmer out for a walk. He has been working so hard, I couldn’t help but think he would benefit from taking a short break.” (_Smiles kindly_). “Aren’t you happy you got to do something other than train and study all day long, young one?”

(_Salmer smiles gladly_). “I… happy. Thank… Thank… you… Ag.”

An irritated Bonak grumbled, crossed his arms against his impressive chest.

“What have I told you about the right way to address the gods, boy?”

Swallowing hard, the Kualuan fearfully bowed. His brow dripping with sweat, Salmer looked away upon straightening himself, not daring to face Bonak’s fearful stare.

I… I… I… apo… apol… apolog… apologize… Lord… Lord... Ag… Lord… Arak.” 

Cukatail and Ogma barely blinked an eye. Ag and Arak flashed sour looks at Bonak, who pretended not to notice as he turned towards the group from Universe 5 with a wide, friendly smile.

“Why don’t you guys go on ahead? It’s been ages since you last spoke with your sister, right, Cukatail? I bet you wanna talk trade secrets with Ag, doncha, Ogma?” (_Turns to Martinu, speaks telepathically_). “[_Take the kid to his room. Make sure he stays put till dinnertime. Keep him away from the others_].”

“[_As you wish, Lord Bonak_].”

Salmer and the group headed into the temple. Arak had a good look at the Hakaishin of Universe 12. Bonak stood well over nine feet tall. His carmine-colored skin was peppered with black tiger-like stripes concentrated primarily around the face, neck, shoulders, abdomen, and upper legs, leaving the whole of the back, arms, and lower legs to clusters of leopard-like spots. 

Several dispersed areas in the Asurendran’s large, beefy body bore an asparagus-green tint, particularly the forehead, the adamantine pectorals, abdomen, forearms, and calves. His Destroyer outfit a tailor-made copy of his successor’s, Bonak’s squared, noseless, semi-humanoid countenance brimmed with bloodlust and resolve, further evinced by four rows of distorted sharp teeth and a larger pair of canine-like thick fangs at the upper and lower mouth. 

Most curious of all, however, were a series of circular incisions across his forehead and the otherwise bald top of the head, easily mistakable for one of the countless battle scars of varying depths and widths to be found all over Bonak’s frame, particularly on both sides of those six vigorous arms which had rent so many foes limb from limb, with the aid of coal-colored claws on his human-like hands and feet. Suffice it to say the Hakaishin’s claim that “they had it comin’… most of ‘em, anyway” did little to reassure Arak. Still, the latter gladly shook his hand.

“Good t’see you again, Zumot. How’re things in the Universe of Balance?”

(_Arak frowns_). “Not well, Ciroc[5]. Me and my Agents killed that creature, but not before it did a lot of damage to Universe 5. Whole quadrants destroyed, billions dead and missing… if only I…”

Bonak gestured at Arak to head inside. Raising a puzzled brow, Arak followed him in.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, old friend. You can’t be everywhere at once. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Weird seeing _you_ this relaxed. Didn’t those gods-damned terrorists blow up one of your planets last year?”

(_Bonak scowls_). “Yeah. Them Blood Sun bastards. Keep poppin’ up everywhere, no matter how many of ‘em I Hakai. Been fighting monsters and sons of bitches nonstop for almost two-thousand years now. Martinu insisted I take a break. Figure I’ll need at least a coupla eons vacation time when this is over.”

(_Arak smiles slyly_). “By “vacation” you mean a training expedition _and_ “serenading them ladies,” am I right, Musgrave?”

(_Bonak chuckles_). “I’m takin’ it easy with that, believe or not. Now I play ‘em my song only _some_ of the time. Know what I mean, Massaya?”

(_Arak grins maliciously_). “That would be what, half a million times out of four?”

Bonak’s laugh echoed throughout the temple. A most welcome sound, Arak thought, shuddering when he recalled stories of what his friend’s predecessors did within their own hallowed walls. 

“Whatever. I still get more than you do.” (_Turns serious_). “So how’re you doin’?”

“Weren’t you listening? Universe 5 is—”

“Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Universe 5.”

(_Arak sighs sorrowfully_). “Miswa. I… I still miss her, y’know. All of them…”

A saddened Bonak stopped, gently put his enormous hand on Arak’s shoulder before they kept walking.

“I feel you, man. Nothing worse than having to bury someone you love.” (_Both deities resume walking_). “Good thing we’ve got eons worth of work ahead of us. ‘Course, havin’ a good one every now and then helps, too.”

Arak shuddered, his expression uncomfortable, as if a legion of centipedes were crawling within his skin. He'd heard that “havin’ a good one” quote a little too often for his liking, which in turn aggravated his animosity toward its alleged originator, someone upon whom the Calamantian couldn’t heap enough contempt.

“You’ve been hanging around Tusker again, haven’t you?”

Bonak all but growled at the mention of that name. Though relieved, Arak sweated with great unease.

“Don’t mention that sonovabitch in my presence. Ever.”

“What did he do this time?” 

“Paid him a visit at Universe 7 last year. Introduced me to some Icejin, an asshole named Arctic or something. Leads a universe-wide army, named it after himself. Think Zen-Oh Multiverse Army, minus the “multi.”

“You don’t say?”

“Anyway, Tusker hires ‘em as his Agents of Destruction, lets ‘em blow up planets if he...”

“You can’t be serious! He’s letting mortals do the destroying for him!?”

“Them cats been doing it for eons, or so Martinu told me.” (_Bonak grumbles_). “If you could just see the way Lech’s boy shakes when his old man so much as looks at ‘im…”

“Don’t remind me. Bastard hasn’t been the same since—”

“Don’t start makin’ excuses for him, Zumot. Don’t care how shitty a hand life deals you. There’re things you don’t do, period… ‘specially to your own children.” (_Frowns_). “Okocim and Lawson… wish I could take ‘em with me.”

“Lanson.”

“Huh?”

“Okocim’s twin brother. His name is Lanson.”

(_Bonak grumbles_). “Brulle and Lech’re gonna fuck up them kids...” 

“Even Sazerac’s better, and you know what _he _does. Wonder why Zen-Oh’s forces haven’t busted House Rosángel yet?”

“You know how it is, man. Slaughter billions of mortals, those guys don’t even blink an eye. Raise a finger against a god, you’ll be lucky if they take away your powers and pack you off to the Shithole Universe.”

“Shithole Universe?”

(_Bonak sweats slightly_). “Kid’s pet name for Universe 9, where he comes from… where _I_ come from… but you already know that.” (_Growls_). “Marnier, Artois, Rosángel, Blackthorn… just when I think them bastards can’t possibly fuck things up even more, they prove me wrong. Big time.” 

The pair stopped in front of a training room. Bonak noticed something amiss: no fighting, no screaming, no sounds of bodies hitting the floor and getting back up again. The Hakaishin grumbled to himself, asked Arak to “hold on a sec” as he entered the room. By the time the Destroyer from U5 covered his ears, the whole planet and nearby areas in that solar system quaked the loudest they had in over four centuries. 

“GET OFF YOUR FUCKING ASSES! YOU PAMPERED SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF BITCHES MAKE ME SICK! I KNOW CHILDREN WHO WORK THREE TIMES HARDER THAN ALL YOU PISS-STAINS! NOW MAKE YOURSELVES USEFUL BEFORE I HAKAI YOU!” 

After that, Bonak calmly left the room. The Asurendran casually cleared his throat, adjusted the stole on his neck as his screams echoed and died out throughout the temple.

“Sorry you had to see that.”

The two deities finally reached the uppermost balcony of the temple. Grunting out loud, Bonak stretched his mighty frame, those muscles that turned many a head wherever he went, for better or worse. Cloaked by the long shadow his fellow god cast, Arak reclined over the ornate balustrade and admired the view, cleared his throat while his counterpart looked over the horizon.

“Ciroc...”

“Yeah?”

“About that Oyzo lad..."

“Salmer Khaitan.”

“Huh?”

“His new name. Picked it himself. Kid hates it when we call him Oyzo. Can’t say I blame ‘im.” 

“I noticed the way he speaks. Is he sick?”

“Martinu examined him. Didn’t understand all the details, but she says he has some kinda brain damage. Tried fixing it herself, but her magic can’t cure him. Not completely.”

“Impossible! There’s no injury, no disease Angel magic can’t heal!”

“This one’s the exception, from the looks of it. Kid’s improved with therapy, though. Couldn’t even talk when we first met.”

“Speaking of which, how did _that_ happen?”

“We found ‘im during a raid on one of Blood Sun’s strongholds in Universe 9. You didn’t hear that from _me_, though.”

“That raid wasn’t exactly legal, was it?”

(_Bonak grumbles_). “Bantam. Son of a bitch didn’t lift a finger, didn’t even let us set foot in his stinkin’ universe. I would’ve decked him and dropped the whole thing right there and then, but them bastards kidnapped the granddaughter of Sir Edinburgh Mill, gods rest his soul…”

“They took Yovsa?”

“Ol’ Ed couldn’t just pop over to Bantam’s and ask to be let into Universe 9, and he sure as hell couldn’t go to Zen-Oh or Grand Priest, so he went to me.” (_Sighs_). “Guy could barely throw a punch when I met ‘im, Zumot. He endured so much bullshit before his old man grew a conscience and acknowledged him on his deathbed… not that it did ‘im much good, anyway. I already told you how our teammates gave us crap back in the day, when we were Nolet’s students. Ed, he was the butt-ugly runt of a noble family that wasn’t powerful anymore, and I was a lowlife, a murderer…”

“It was kill or be killed, Ciroc. If you hadn’t, you would’ve…”

Bonak’s tone turned grave. The Asurendran looked over the glassy sea, as if he were watching the events unfold all over again.

“I agreed to rescue Yovsa at all costs, even if it meant breaking the Omni-King’s laws. I was afraid Martinu wouldn’t be on board, but she didn’t need much persuading. Coupla gifts here an’ there, and Mojito agreed to look the other way.” (_Chuckles_). “It also helped ol’ Bantam was busy fighting a civil war ‘gainst his own sons, but that’s a story for another day.”

“The less I hear about House Blackthorn, the better.” 

“Anyway, I couldn’t risk ol’ Shaggy Beard and his stooges finding me, so I had Martinu submerge my God ki and Destruction Energy while we gathered clues and such. We infiltrated their hideout in Roku Town, a mining outpost in the Guinness Islands. I ordered Martinu to find Yovsa and get her out while I did my thing.”

“You went berserk, like in the old days?”

“Weak, gutless little shits. Even those nancy boy students of mine could’ve taken ‘em… but I got careless. One of ‘em got a lucky shot in, fucked up my left leg. Him and his buddies ganged up on me. I was about to go Ultra Instinct when I saw a blue wind or something fly past the asshole who shot me. Guy’s face got skewered into hamburger. Six others started spilling their guts (I mean that literally, y’know), dropped dead before the first guy hit the floor. I took advantage of the distraction, went Ultra Instinct and finished off the rest.”

“That blue wind you mentioned… was it Salmer?”

“Kid ran away before I could catch 'im. Was using some kinda claw things."

"Claw things?"

"Y'know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"C'mon, don't tell me you forgot already! You even explained all the diff'rent types a coupla centuries ago, when you showed me your old man's collection."

"Father collected thousands of weapons, Ciroc. You'll have to be more specific."

"Look, I don't know what they're called, ok? All I remember is, the kid wore them on his hands, used 'em like they were animal claws."

"Ah, I see what you mean. Push-daggers, gauntlet-swords, that sort of thing, right?" (_Bonak nods_). "You still have them? Salmer's weapons?"

"Yeah. Had Martinu seal 'em away in a Magic Chest. Used a Tri-Lock and everything."

"A Tri-Lock, huh?"

(_Ciroc scowls_). "Kid's real paranoid, Zumot. Always lookin' over his shoulder, don't let people touch 'im, or even get close to him. Hell, he only takes it easy 'round Martinu, Ag, and me, and even then he keeps his distance. Trust me, he's dangerous enough without the damn things." (_Clears throat_). "Now where was I?"

"You were on the part where Salmer saved you." 

"Right. Anyway, next thing I know, I hear slashin’, screamin’, then silence. That’s when Martinu found me. She was carrying Yovsa, had a bunch of raggedy kids from all ages tagging behind her, bruised, bleeding all over.” (_Frowns_). “Poor things hadn’t eaten in days. We were lucky to reach ‘em in time. Long story short, we rounded up the survivors, executed all but a coupla bigshot Blood Sunners we caught, and left Mojito to clean up the scene, keep Bantam’s forces off our backs. Ol’ Sourpuss even agreed to return them kids to their families, find a good place for those who didn’t have one. Finally, when we were about to head back to Universe 12, we turned around, and there _he_ was. Boy tried talkin’ to us, but he could only make grunts and noises, which Martinu translated. He didn’t have a name, but everyone called him Oyzo, a name he said he hated. Didn’t remember where he came from or if he had a family. He’d lived in Roku Town since he was four or five, was seven or so when we found ‘im, and it was only a matter of time before his former masters would find him and kill him, no matter how far he traveled or how well he hid. Yovsa vouched for him, said he put his own ass on the line several times protectin’ her and the younger kids, so we took ‘im in. Been livin’ with us for almost three years now.”

(_Arak’s jaw nearly drops_). “Wow… that’s…” (_Pulls himself together_). “I felt his energy, Ciroc. He’s pretty strong, unusually so for someone so young.”

(_Proud Bonak is…_). “What’d you expect? He’s from Universe 9, like yours truly. Yeah, kid’s a natural when it comes to fighting.” (_Chuckles_). “Dunno if I told you, but he beat the living crap outta my students coupla days after he got here.”

“Really!? What for!?”

“Y’know what kinda meatheads I work with. Probably figgered they could give ‘im shit ‘cuz he’s a kid. Boy, did he prove ‘em wrong. Y’know, I should ask Salmer to drill them pretty boys. Pretty sure a coupla of ‘em could use a new asshole.” (_Laughs out loud_).

(_Stern Arak is…_). “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you.”

“Lighten up, Arak. You worry way too fucking much.”

“You didn’t have to scare him like that when we were outside, y’know. Also, when did you start caring about etiquette?”

“Hey, it’s one thing if the kid acts out in front of me, Martinu, or Ag. He, not to mention this universe, could be utterly fucked if he pulls that bullshit with Zen-Oh and the other gods. ‘Sides, I know better than to let ‘im run wild. I ain’t the sharpest blade in the sheath, but I’m far from stupid.”

“Good point. There _are_ gentler ways to go about it, though.”

(_Bonak scoffs dismissively_). “He got off easy. Nolet used to break our thumbs for speakin’ out of turn. Hell, other Hakaishin have done far worse for much less, like Raquetan, the sonovabitch Nolet overthrew. They didn’t call him “Slachter” and “Schlachtgott[6]” for nothin’, y’know.”

(_Arak shakes his head_). “Two wrongs don’t make a right, old friend.”

(_Bonak shrugs_). “Kid’s gotta learn sooner or later.” 

Arak coldly looked the Asurendran in the eye.

“You ought to take this more seriously, Bonak. I looked into Salmer’s eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw.”

“What did you see?”

“Anger… fear… sadness… hate… and that’s just what I caught on to. Gods knows what foulness is lurking in that lad’s mind.”

“You just described every Destroyer in existence.”

“That’s exactly the problem. Salmer _isn’t_ a Destroyer.” 

“Not yet, anyway.”

(_Arak scowls_). “Don’t tell me you’re training that boy to succeed you.”

“‘Course not. Don’t plan on retirin’ any time soon.”

“He’s just a child, Ciroc. Not even a quarter of a century old, and he’s already lived through things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

“You and me lived through that and more back in the day. If we could pull through, so can he.”

“You assume too much, Ciroc Musgrave. That’s always been your weakness.” (_Reclines his back against the balustrade_). “You have Martinu and Ag to guide you. I have Cukatail and Atmo. Salmer has no such luxury.”

“Zumot…” 

“We’ve seen this before. A troubled young mortal comes along. They’ve suffered a lot in life, so they’ve had to train hard, push themselves beyond their limits just to stay alive. They’re very powerful, more than any other warriors, so they attract the attention of their universe’s Hakaishin. Two things usually happen after that. One, the Destroyer takes the mortal in as their disciple and they eventually succeed them. Two, the mortal challenges the Destroyer and defeats them. Best case scenario, the mortal spares the Destroyer, gets confirmed by the Omni-King, does everything by the book. Worst case scenario, the mortal kills the Destroyer, which also kills his Supreme Kai, then goes off to find stronger opponents, not giving a damn about the chaos they leave in their wake.” (_Arak eyes Bonak suspiciously_). “Don’t even get me started on those disciples who betrayed their Destroyers and usurped their position, with the help of the latter’s Attendants, I might add.”

(_Bonak furrows his brow_). “Ok, you got a point there.” (_Ponders for a while_). “Maybe _you_ can help him out.” 

“What do you have in mind?”

“Martinu’s teaching Salmer to meditate and such, but it don’t come easy for him, just like yours truly. Me, I’ve always been a hothead, but you’ve got a good head between your shoulders, Zumot. You could take the kid to Universe 5, teach ‘im meditation, all that spiritual stuff I suck at. It wouldn’t be permanent, of course. Just a year, maybe two or three at most.”

(_Arak ponders_). “I don’t know. I’m not opposed to the idea, but now’s not a good time. I’ll consider it after we make things right back home.”

“Thanks, man.” 

Bonak put his hand on Arak’s shoulders, then took a deep breath.

“Come out, Salmer. We know you’re there.” 

Salmer flew from underneath the balcony, landed not far from the deities. An incensed Bonak crossed his arms against his chest.

“How much of our conversation did you hear, boy?”

“Lord... Lord… Bonak… I… I… still… weak?” 

Salmer pointed to himself, struggling not to cry in front of the two Destroyers. Though incredulous at first, Arak smiled, honored to have seen in Bonak’s eyes, if only for a little while, something he seldom saw in most other Hakaishin.

“Didn’t mean it like that, kid.” 

The Asurendran approached Salmer. The Kualuan at first recoiled, his expression straddling fear and unease, then calmed down by the time Bonak crouched to the boy’s height, much to Arak’s puzzlement. 

“You’re strong, Salmer, but strength alone doesn’t make you a warrior. You need wisdom, discernment, self-control, things that’ve taken me centuries to figger out. Hell, even now I need Martinu and Ag around to make sure I don’t do somethin’ stupid.” 

The Destroyer then pointed to his Universe 5 counterpart. An awkwardly self-conscious Arak could only listen, awed at the wisdom coming out of Bonak’s mouth.

“This guy gets it. I’ve never met any other Hakaishin who does as much for their universe, and _he _doesn’t go around Hakai’ing everythin’ that moves…” (_Turns stern_). “…or pickin’ fights with randos. That’s the sixth time this week we’ve had to separate you from the other students, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“T-They… They… want… do… bad… things… me…”

Salmer sweated profusely, pointed to himself yet again. Arak nearly gasped. Bonak briefly pondered. After telling the lad to wait where he stood, the pair moved farther away, making sure the Kualuan couldn’t hear them. The Calamantian sweated uneasily. The Asurendran snorted contemptuously.

“Ciroc… did I hear that boy right? Your students really…?”

“Of course not. I hate… I hate that… vileness as much as you do. You know what we do to degenerates here.” (_Sighs forlornly_). “I didn’t tell you the whole story, Zumot. Salmer, he… he worked as an assassin for Blood Sun. He was also a spy, and…” (_Retches_). “They… They… used…” (_Retches again_). “…him… like… like… the ones… ones who… who…” (_Retches yet again_). “…who used… used…”

Once he sprinted to the edge of the balcony, Ciroc noisily vomited over the balustrade a good seven times in a row. Martinu, Cukatail, Ag, and Ogma made the scene just in time to watch as Arak trembled, his eyes meeting Salmer’s, who stared back with awe and terror…

A sweat-drenched scream brought Zumot back to the present. There he was, still trapped in the Void Realm, deprived of power and divinity, wearing the symbol of the fiends who stole both from him and his fellow deities. Unable to keep his eyes open, the dizzy ex-Hakaishin collapsed. Salmer caught him in the nick of time as the trio from Universes 2, 3, and 11 scrambled to their spot.

“ARAK!”

Jerez’s scream resounded throughout the library. The fallen Destroyers helped the Calamantian lie down, allowed him some room to regain himself. After about twelve seconds of shallow, agitated breathing, Zumot opened his eyes, looked at the group and their surroundings with a vacant stare, almost as if in a daze.

(_Vermoud helps Zumot sit up_). “What happened? You alright, man?”

(_Salty Salmer is…_). “[_Does he look alright to you!? Damn Tarokian_[7]_…_].”

Almost past his vertigo, the ex-Hakaishin started to feel queasy. Zumot’s eyes trembled. He tried to tell the group, but couldn’t speak a syllable. His brow drenched in sweat, his mind drifting back and forth to past and present, the late Lord Arak shoved aside his fellow captives, then vomited for about ten or eleven minutes.

Still coughing, Zumot blinked, looked away upon meeting Salmer’s worried, sunken eyes. After a minute of awkward silence, Jerez at last said a word.

“Zumot… are you alright?” 

“I’m… I’m ok. Sorry ‘bout that, guys. I… don’t know what came over me. Lost myself there for a moment.”

(_Incredulous Mule is…_). “A moment? Zumot, you stood there like a statue for at least an hour… or what seemed like it.” (_Realizes something_). “Damn, I forgot. You guys are new here, so you don’t know…” 

Salmer eyed the Chertenokian, silently prodded him to explain himself, if only to kill the mind-numbing silence hovering above the musty air. Zumot, on the other hand, could’ve used some peace and quiet, and so all but urged Mule to say his piece or shut up.

Just then, a disembodied voice resonated within the minds of the vanquished Hakaishin. It lacked the so-called nobility of Mate, the mean-spirited mirth of Beinwell, the seething wantonness of Caron, the condescending curiosity and ambiguous intentions of other Numina. Thus, it was safe to assume the speaker was someone else entirely.

“[_Time does not exist within the Realm of Void. Countless eons may unravel within the All-Cosmos, yet herein doth linger everlasting present, silence unending, permanence immutable e’en as its bondsmen cry unto the Abyss and blaspheme unto Heav’n_[8]].” 

The group hastily turned around: approaching steps! Someone or something was heading their way! The fallen deities brazed themselves. Weakened as they were, they wouldn’t let the intruder have it easy. Shortly after, Jerez smiled kindly, breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s alright, everyone. Good to see you again, Lord Masala.” 

Salmer and Zumot beheld a thinly built, powder blue and tea rose orange-skinned, black-mottled humanoid. The creature advanced with a swift gait, his three-fingered left hand holding a walking staff ornately carved with Eastern dragons, cherry blossoms, and persimmon flowers, its top crowned with the same insignia found in the captives’ kimonos. Sporting a tentacled countenance crossing that of an octopus and a nautilus, the top of Masala’s head was crowned by a slightly cracked, faded pearl and amber-colored spiked shell with vermilion-hued elliptical stripes. Each forearm bore dull-looking fins at the top. 

The mollusk man was dressed in a brownish tunic, punctured at the chest by several outgrowing small spikes. Clad with a rather thick scarf around his neck, he also wore a clean, albeit heavily patched gray sarong that almost reached his heels. Lastly, a pair of rope-laced sandals shielded Masala’s tridactyl, plantigrade feet from dust, broken glass, and other debris lying around the dismal library. 

Other than an equally worn waist-level sash woven with unfamiliar patterns, not too different from that of a God of Destruction, Masala’s outfit bore no distinctive features. Aside from an ornately engraved prismatic armband around the right wrist, this creature wore no jewelry, studs, or any other accessories commonly used by Numina or Destroyers.

Masala bowed upon reaching the group. Next, he spoke in a soothing tone with a near-otherworldly reverb, even as his blinking pinhole eyes surveyed the area around them. 

“[_Hail, mine Lords_].” 

A confused Salmer turned to Zumot. Though voiceless, he seemed to ask something to the tune of “Did this creature just speak without moving its lips, or am I losing my mind already?” 

“[_Be not afraid. ‘Tis mine voice you hear, though mine mouth be shut_].”

“You’re using telepathy, aren’t you?”

“[_Indeed, Zumot al-Massaya_].” (_Masala turns to Salmer_). [“_Greetings, Salmer Khaitan_].” (_Salmer stares apprehensively_). “[_I realize thou art ill at ease, mine Lord, yet this is the only way I can speak, the only way ye can hear me. I beg thy pardon_].”

(_Vermoud smiles kindly_). “It’s ok, guys. Lord Masala’s been helping us get back on our feet since we got here. If anybody can give you a hand, it’s him, and even if he can’t, he’s the closest thing to a friendly face you’ll see in this place. The rest of those sickos are wound up so tightly, they make _us_ look like kittens even on our worst days.”

(_Masala blushes slightly_). “[_Thou needn't sing mine panegyric, Belsazar Dolin_. _And please, address me not by mine title. Long ‘tis been since I was a Numen. Once more I am __アカルイノーチラス_(_Akarui Nōchirasu_[9])_, a mortal, like ye_].”

(_Jerez blinks in confusion_). “Bright Nautilus?”

“[_So was I named when I came of age, Solera al-Shedeh. Prior to that, I was named __ナメクジ_ _コショウ_(_Namekuji Koshō_[10])].”

(_Puzzled Mule is…_). “And that means…?”

(_Jerez yawns_). “It means “pepper slug” … or rather, “slug pepper.” 

“[_Fuck kinda name is that?_].” 

The fallen gods turned to Salmer. The Kualuan awkwardly stared back, half ready to fight, half ready to flee, as Masala stepped forward.

“[_Hell’re you guys staring at?_].”

Zumot: “Geene… I… I heard your… your thoughts.”

Solera: “As did I.”

Belsazar: “Me too.”

Zevion: “Ditto.”

“[_‘Tis mine doing. Though mine powers dwindle within this Realm, I can make thine innermost thoughts evident to all herein gathered_].”

“[_Hold on! You’re reading **everything** that’s going on in my head!?_].”

“[_I see all emerging from thy mind, read but what thou allowest to linger_].” 

Masala noticed Salmer blushing. The former Numen realized he’d unwittingly trespassed against another being, and thus set out to console the nervous, perspiring Kualuan.

“[_Set thy heart at ease, mine Lord. Thou and she cherished one another. There is no shame in that, none in the—_].”

That did it. His face burning a searing scarlet, Geene shambled away to the best of his ability, cursing his weakness for denying him the chance to massacre that slug.

“[_Shut up! Get out of my head! NOW!_].”

(_Arak is scandalized_). “Oyzo!”

(_Vermoud looks up_). “‘Thou and she?’ What’s he talking about?”

“[_This doesn’t concern you, clown!_].” (_To Masala_). “[_That goes double for **you**, pepper steak!_].”

“[_That is not mine name_].”

Zumot turned to Salmer, carefully selected his next words. It was necessary to calm the fish man down. The Calamantian approached the younger male, spoke to him in a conciliatory tone, only for the Kualuan to brush him aside.

“Oyzo…”

“[_Don’t call me that…_].”

(_Mule shambles forward_). “Is there something you don’t want to tell us, Geene?”

Geene glowered at Mule like he wanted to strangle him. Irritating imp! How the fuck did that… that _thing_ become a God of Destruction!? For the same reason as the rat, the cats, the clown, the harlot, the elephant, and the green fuck-up. Nobody else was able or willing, and the Omni-King and his lapdogs didn’t give a flying crap. Far as they were concerned, every jerk and his sister could wear a Hakaishin’s stole. That little farce had gone far enough: it was up to Geene to right what had gone so horribly, revoltingly wrong.

“[_Shut it, nerd!_].”

“That’s enough, Oyzo!”

“[_What part of “don’t call me that” don’t you understand!?_].”

“Get a hold of yourselves, all of you!” (_Jerez angrily stares at Geene_). “Your secrets are your own, Geene, but that doesn’t give you the right to speak to us like that, especially to Lord Masala. You ought to apologize to _him_, at the very least.”

“[_‘Tis all right, milady. I—_].”

A cornered Geene staggered to his feet, glared at Jerez and company. Such weak, pitiful fools. To think Mate and his flunkies dared compare _them_ to Arak, Liquiir, Iwan, and himself. Shameful! Abominable! Deplorable! Unforgivable! 

“[_I don’t take orders from anybody, much less a buncha piss-stains who got their universes erased!_].”

A furious Arak shambled to his feet. Mule, however, beat him to the punch.

“How dare you!? You have no right to treat us like this!”

“[_Well, well, look who finally grew a backbone. Real cute, Sorokov. Didn’t think you had it in you, with you abandoning your family and whatnot…_].” 

Now it was Vermoud’s turn to say his piece.

“Shut your fucking trap, Geene, or so help me—”

“[_What’re **you** gonna do, Dolin: run away from daddy and slither back to your whores? That’s all you’re good for, anyway. Gods know why Marcarita hasn’t left you for Jiren alre—_].”

Before anyone else could react, Jerez stood face to face with Geene and decked him as hard as she could. Amused rather than offended, the Kualuan smiled a scornful grin.

“[_That all you got, Princess? Life sure sucks when you can’t fuck and murder your way out of your—_].”

“SHUT UP, OYZO! SHUT YOUR DAMN FUCKING MOUTH!”

An outraged Arak found the strength to punch Geene square in the face, knocking both to the ground. The Kualuan barely had time to wipe blood from his visage or spit out broken teeth, as the Calamantian kept up his assault, yelling about how disappointed he was in Geene, how sick he was of that attitude of his, finishing with a plethora of epithets that bear no repeating.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO THEM LIKE THAT, OYZO ROKU! HAVE YOU NO SHAME!?”

“[_DON’T CALL ME THAT! MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, OLD MAN_!].”

"YOU **MADE** IT MY BUSINESS! YOU DESERVE THIS! YOU DESERVE ALL OF IT! YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO EXIST! YOU'LL NEVER HURT ME AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME!? DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Zumot fought like he was possessed. His echoing reproaches soon gave way to increasingly incoherent rambling. Zumot al-Massaya was home again, at the old palace near the swamp, the colosseum, the stables, everywhere and nowhere. 

The amphibian was no longer a shadow of his former self, trapped in another dimension. Once more he was a little boy, a preteen, a young adult, all back and forth, as he didn't stay long in each stage. Instead of Salmer, Zumot was wailing on one among countless assholes he'd encountered throughout his eons. 

They'd all get their due, yet not even the most excruciating tortures could...

Heaving, panting vehemently, an exhausted Arak grabbed Geene by his kimono’s collar, stared death into his eyes, proceeded to pound his counterpart’s face into paste… or at least he would have. Zumot willed his fist into his target, yet his body became all but deaf to him. His arm remained suspended in the air, as if held by an invisible something that would not be defied. 

“[_That is enough, mine Lords. Let this conflict cease_].”

The fish man and the Calamantian turned to see Masala hovering near the floor, his left arm extended toward them, much to Jerez's, Mule's, and Vermoud’s astonishment. Zumot realized this was all the mollusk's doing: the ancient former god had somehow taken over his body, all to stop him from doing something he would certainly regret. 

The ex-Numen relaxed his grip, relinquished control to its rightful owner. Coughing and wheezing loudly, Arak turned away, unable to look at the battered Salmer. He'd done it again: he'd lost control. He was no better than...

Flustered and confused as he was, Zumot was far from done with the younger male.

“You… you ought to be ashamed of yourself... Salmer Khaitan."

"[_That lecture you're about to give... you know where you can shove it_]."

"Don't change the subject. I'm... I'm so disappointed in you. What would Bonak say if he could see you now?”

“[_Good riddance_].”

“What!?”

“[_You heard me_].”

A defiant Salmer stared back at Zumot. His stare icy-cold, his pitch eerily monotone, the aching Kualuan turned away as a contrite Masala landed, bowed before the pair.

“[_I must beg your pardon, mine Lords. ‘Twas not mine intent to sow discord amongst ye. Please accept mine apologies, Lord Geene. I spake idly and trespass’d against thee. I shall be mindful henceforth_].” 

A contemptuous Salmer spat to his left as Solera, Belsazar, and Zevion looked on in utter disbelief. Masala sat down _seiza_-style[11] nearby, prompting Mule to let out an impressed whistle.

“No offense, man, but you’re way too patient. I would’ve blown my top off after somethin’ like that.”

“[_I am a servant, Zevion Poliakovich Sorokov. I merely do mine duty_].” (_Turns to Salmer and Zumot_).“[_Now mine Lords, please disclose your ailments_].”

(_Zumot sighs despondently_). “Where to start? I’m dead tired, my body feels like mush, I hate my own stinking guts, and part of me’s starting to regret every single life choice that’s led up to this moment. That’s it for me. Geene’s feeling pretty much the same, aren’t you, old friend?”

“[_You have to be right all the friggin’ time, old man?_].”

“[_The Principle of Vacuity is to blame. I am aware of your defeat at the hands of mine brother_].”

“Your brother? Mate is…? [_But you don’t look like him at all!_].”

“[_I realize that, Zumot al-Massaya…_].” 

A mortified Zumot looked away. Realizing what had happened, Masala’s countenance turned a deep purple.

“[_O-Oh, mine apologies! Verily I am grown thoughtless in this Realm! To answer thy query, Lord Mate and Lady Chifir’s sire and dam are not mine own, yet unto them I was as th’ issue of flesh and blood. I shall gladly tell more after I discharge mine duty. Gather your minds, mine Lords. Thou mayest stay where thou art, Salmer Khaitan_].”

Once the pair complied, Masala shut his eyes and collected himself. He allowed his energy to flow from the inside to the outside, where it assumed the form of a seemingly infinite, limpid stream of translucent silver light, much to the amazement of the group. The iridescence washed over the new arrivals, gently drowned out pain… weakness… sorrow…

“[{_Fear… yet assurance. Desire… yet abstention. Anger… yet compassion. Hatred… yet forbearance. Folly… yet foresight. Abeyance… yet motion. Weakness… yet strength. Ignorance… yet understanding. Knowledge… yet wisdom. Mismeasure… yet balance. Deceit… yet truth. Injury… yet healing. Suffering… yet delight. Shame… yet honour. Evil… yet good. Dark… yet light. Self… yet others. I… yet thou. Us… yet they. Disregard… yet… love. Death… yet… life. Emptiness… yet… plenitude. Vacuity… yet… depth. Void… yet… Chikara_[12]}].” (_The energy fades. Brief pause_). “[_Arise, mine Lords_].”

Zumot and Salmer staggered to their feet, overjoyed to have regained at least some mobility. The Calamantian turned toward Masala, yet the former Numen gestured at him to hold still.

“[_Make no movement save as needed. I have barely begun to undo the aftermath of Vacuity. There is much travail remaining_].”

(_A shamefaced Salmer looks away_). “[_Thanks… I guess_].”

“[_Nothing is owed_]_." _(_Brief pause_)_. _[_I sense sorrow within thee, mine Lord. Pray tell, what troubles thee so?_].”

(_Salmer frowns_). “[_Nothing_].”

(_Zumot turns to Masala_). “Nochirasu—I-I mean, Masala… look, I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but… I don’t suppose you could restore our powers?” 

“[_Mine apologies, Lord Arak. I cannot. In addition to ridding ye of God ki and Energy of Destruction, the Principle of Vacuity has wholly annull’d ye to Chikara, what ye term “ki” or “life energy.” Mine own powers are severely diminished herein, so I can summon them but briefly. I might be able to retrieve some of your strength, yet I cannot turn back your undeification, just as I cannot turn back mine own. Only the All-Sovereign or Daishinkan may attempt such a feat. Success is not guaranteed_].” (_Arak frowns_)_._ “[_Mark me. Someone approaches_].” (_Brief pause. Masala speaks Turkish_). “[{_Hail, Kral Mulaban_}].”

The fallen Hakaishin beheld a two-legged being whose features amalgamated eel, ape and insect, so that it constituted a hairless scorpion-like mandrill (or a mandrill-like scorpion?) with a sickle-shaped pronged tail to match. His heavily scarred, black-veined flesh was colored Verona green and coral pink with successive mauveine-and-black leopard spots haphazardly spread across the countenance, upper body, all six sinewy upper limbs and legs, concentrated around the shoulders and abdomen. 

This Numen bore a heavily disheveled uniform, the gold choker around his neck as tarnished as the six armbands around his six wrists and the barely noticeable stud on his right brow. The features of his three-hinged, beaked, multi sharp-toothed, simian-arachnid, semi-equine snout poorly illuminated by dispersed torchlight, Mulaban advanced, his expression undecipherable. 

The deity’s tail kicked up dust at intervals to cover the trail left by his digitigrade three-toed lizard-slash-apish feet, as well as his second and third set of knuckles, each three-fingered arthropod-like hand stained a moldy gray. The fins on top of his head, arms, legs, and tail bristled, relaxed at irregular intervals, his breathing kept pace with the swelling and recessing of a dewlap underneath his veiny neck. Having reached the group, Mulaban bowed as best he could, then spoke in a deep, raspy, monotone voice, pointing to himself and Mate’s guests as needed.

“{Hail, Kral Masala. Tidings. Bring. Here. Defiler. Ganlu. Search. Fate vanquished. None deserve[13]}.” 

“[{_I see. I thank thee, Adeni, son of Halib, yet thou braved not this forsaken place merely to admonish us. Else do thee here?}_].”

“{Healing. Time. Ready}.”

“[{_I understand. I shall see to thee after I regain mine strength. Please remember I have others in need of care as well_}].” 

“{Understand. Wait}.” 

Mulaban politely nodded at Jerez. The former Destroyer from Universe 2 scoffed out loud, tore her sight from the offending Numen as Zumot spoke to her _sotto-voce_.

“Who’s this guy? What did he just say?”

“Lord Mulaban. He said “the Defiler” is here, that he came to warn us so we won’t suffer “the vanquished fate,” whatever that means." (_Sotto-voce_). "(You needn’t have bothered, foul beast. We lost our powers, not our brains).”

“Brain thee I shall if e’er again thou dost offend mine frère, thou jade[14].”

The Numina and their charges now faced a russet and burgundy-colored, black-stripped, anthropomorphic amalgamate of Chinese guardian lion, African wild dog, and beetle. Standing some nine feet tall, this purple-veined, deeply battle-scarred being strutted into the area with bare digitigrade feet. His warlike frame brandishing the strength of granite, the fearful symmetry of the tiger, the flickering speed of blinking eyes, the creature’s feline-canine-insect quadruple-hinged snout barely concealed near endless rows of jagged teeth. His leonine countenance bore an irregularly shaped dim grey stain, widely replicated at the forearms and calves. 

The new arrival’s goldenrod-colored left eye and amethyst-colored right eye shone within penumbral silence. His hybrid nose was barely a vestige of its former self, yet it still twitched under suffocating mold and dust, the cornrowed black hair on top of his head much the worse for wear, as it hadn't been cleaned or combed in ages. This creature’s uniform was badly tattered as well, indicated by multiple patches highly visible in the stole and pants, along with severely tarnished gold earrings and armbands. 

Masala solemnly bowed before the new arrival. Switching to Cantonese, the mollusk man stared in awe at yet another Destroyer from the Void.

“[{_Hail, Lord Ganlu_}].”

“{Hail, Achisune Nokaruko}.”

“[{_That is not my name_}].”

“{Atsunoku Nokimato?}.” (_Masala calmly shakes his head_). “{Anakako Nirinosuke?}.”

“[{_Not even close…_}].” 

“{Albarichi Nokoraso?}”

“[{_Almost there…_}].”

(_Ganlu growls_). “Enough! The serpent procures thy charges, mine Lord Masala. E’en now the baseborn cur readies an ambuscade wherewith he shall satiate his reprobate appetencies.”

(_Confused Vermoud is…_). “Ok, all I understood was “Lord,” “serpent,” and “reprobate.”

(_Jerez sweats ice-cold terror_). “He… He said… Caron is preparing an ambush… he’s going after… after us.”

(_Ganlu roars_). “That blackguard! He doth defile the blood in his fists!”

Mulaban gestured at Ganlu to calm down. Afterwards, he pointed at the disgraced Hakaishin.

“Bear. Away. Orders.”

“[_Who entrusted ye with such orders?_].”

“Grand Numen.”

(_Masala blinks_). “[_I see..._].”

Masala’s voice shifted to a casual, almost relaxed tone. The former Numen then waved his left hand in front of Ganlu and Mulaban, who stared back with an ambiguous expression.

Masala: “[_Ye have not the authority wherewith to command I relinquish mine charges_].”

Ganlu (mesmerized): “We have not the authority wherewith to command thou relinquish thy charges.”

Masala (waves hand again): “[_If Lord Mate takes offense at mine refusal, ye shalt kindly beg his pardon on mine behalf. Afterward, request his presence herein_].”

Mulaban (also mesmerized): “Lord. Mate. Offense. Refusal. Beg pardon. Presence herein.”

Masala: “[_I thank ye, mine Lords. Thou art dismissed_].”

Ganlu: “We live to serve. Let us away, brother.”

Mulaban: “Aye.” 

Once the pair left, Masala helped the fallen gods back to their feet, then bade them follow him. Zumot was perplexed, to say the least.

“What… what just happened?”

“[_Later shall I tell. Make haste, mine Lords. We are lost if we tarry_].”

With Masala at the head, the group headed deeper into the cursed library. Once they had gone, an amused Caron emerged from the shadows.

“Kosho-kun… so thou hast made thy choice. Thou sot… oh well. Let Euthalia and Euthymia rage and rave for now[15]. Yet those two… could they…?” (_Chuckles_). “It matters not. The Primal Ones shall have their way, and I’ll have some fine sport with our spoils. None can escape Amaru Tlapahhuiltlantli[16]. This shall I learn ye soon enough.” 

With that, the serpent hissed a laugh, then stepped back into the darkness…

* * *

[1] “Cher-teh-nok-kee-ahn.” From the Russian “чертенок” (chertenok = “imp”—Source: Google Translate).

[2] “Damn!” (Russian. Pronounced “chert”—Source: Google Translate).

[3] “Ah-zoo-ren-dran.”

[4] Possible V.A.’s: Bruce Barker (Hellboy, _Injustice 2_), Clancy Brown (Yakone, _The Legend of Korra_), Frederick R. “Michael” Ironside (_Batman: The Animated Series_ et al.).

[5] Pronounced “See-rók.”

[6] “Slaughterer” (Dutch). “Slaughterer God” (German—Source: Google Translate). 

[7] “Tah-roh-kee-ahn.” From the Lao “tarok” = “clown” (Source: Google Translate).

[8] Possible V.A.’s: David Near (Marionette / The Puppet, _Five Nights at Freddy’s_, more soothing, less monotone, notable reverb[ (www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtlEXcWEAgA](http://%20\(www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtlEXcWEAgA)), Stephen Fry (various), Thom Adcox-Hernandez (Lexington, Disney’s _Gargoyles_, but with a more baritone grown-up-mystic-creature-wise-beyond-its-years vibe).

[9] Source: Google Translate.

[10] See above.

[11] 正座/正坐. Traditional Japanese formal sitting by kneeling, folding the legs under the thighs, supporting the buttocks on the heels (Source: Wikipedia).

[12] Translated from Japanese. Loosely modeled after the Jedi Creed.

[13] Kral = Lord (Source: Google Translate). Possible V.A.’s: Unknown Male Voice Actor (Black, _Twisted Metal: Black_), Fred Tatasciore (“Blue Fangs,” _Castlevania_, Netflix), James “Jim” J. Cummings (Amal, Disney’s _Aladdin_, 1994-5), Kevin Michael Richardson (various).

[14] Possible V.A.’s: Ike Amadi (Shao Kahn, _Mortal Kombat 11_), Joaquim de Almeida (Bane, _The Batman_), Paul St. Peter / Paul Schmidl Peter (Cornell, _Castlevania Judgment_), Jamieson Price (The Count of Monte Cristo, _Gankutsuou_).

[15] “Eh-ooh-thah-lee-ah,” “Eh-ohh-tʰ-ee-mee-ah” (Greek—Source: Behind the Name). tʰ = diagraph.

[16] “Poison-Tooth” (Nahuatl. Approx. translation. Source: www.translatenahuatl.com/en/dictionary-english-nahuatl).


	6. Return of the Repressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beerus catches up with new friends... and old enemies.

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences **

Book One:** Beerus**

Chapter 6: Return of the Repressed

_One week later, Kami’s Lookout, 10:30 AM…_

Okocim punched, kicked, dodged, parried under the morning sun… or at least he tried to, dressed as he was in a weighted training _gi _not unlike Goku’s. His cape flowing in the wind, a stern Piccolo cracked his knuckles, doubtless readying for his pupil’s next move. His speed and movement severely hampered, the former deity had spent the previous six days learning to work around such handicaps, all of which were there to stay, no matter how much he grumbled or complained.

“[_Why does everything have to be so friggin’ difficult!? The fuck am I ‘sposed to fight like this!?_].”

Okocim powers up, dashes towards Piccolo, swings a right hook to his face. The Namekian dodges, grabs the feline’s shirt collar, throws him down into the courtyard floor. Okocim retaliates with a ground scissors kick, only for his target to jump out of the way. 

The Sphygian dashes one more time. Failing to scratch at the Namekian’s countenance, Okocim delivers a series of kicks aimed at the face, all of which completely miss their target. An unimpressed Piccolo swats Okocim aside like the oversized gnat he is. 

Having landed some ten feet away, the exasperated feline cups his hands in an all too familiar stance. For his part, the Namekian starts to charge his signature attack.

“Ka… me…”

“[_Please tell me you’re not going to…_].”

“Ha…”

“[_I guess you are…_].”

“Me…”

“[_You’re not ready…_].”

“HA!”

“SPECIAL BEAM CANNON!” 

Okocim’s puny beam of light collides with Piccolo’s energy drill. With nary a struggle, the latter overwhelms the former, barely gives the cat man time to evade and dash once again, only for the Namekian to sidestep, grab the Sphygian by the ankle, and throw him to the ground. 

A heavily panting Okocim rose to his knees. His body soaked in sweat, the late Lord Beerus wiped his eyes, yet the burning only got worse. Cursing and grumbling to himself, the Sphygian all but missed Piccolo’s approach. Fortunately, the Namekian handed the feline a fresh towel and a bottle of water, helping himself to one as the pair sat down near the temple’s front steps.

(_Okocim takes a sip_). “So how’d I do?” (_Piccolo doesn’t answer_). “That bad, huh?”

“You’re still putting too much thought into your attacks.”

“So I’m overthinking?” (_Forlorn sigh_). “Figures. Whis used to say the same thing back in the day, when he trained me for… y’know.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. We’ve barely begun with the basics.”

“Basics… all this time, and I still can’t fly. Think I’m doing something wrong? Maybe I need to train harder…”

“That’s not how it works, Beerus. You’re pushing yourself enough as it is.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You find fault in every little thing you do. When others praise you, you’re too quick to dismiss it. Remember what I told you the first day…”

“We’re not meant to be perfect. We’re meant to strive for more, to be better, do better… scratch that. It was “to be and to do our best.” I’m such an idiot.”

“That’s exactly my point. There’s a time and a place for sweating details. This isn’t it.”

(_Okocim yawns_). “Yeah… I see what you mean.”

“Sleep well last night?”

“If by “well” you mean “did I have one nightmare when I usually have two or three per night,” then yeah, I slept well.” (_Frowns_). “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? I mean, it’s one thing when kids have bad dreams. If it happens then, it’s cute, even endearing. When you’re a grown-ass cat who had his midlife crisis before everyone else’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaddy was so much as an afterthought…”

“I don’t buy that. What seems horrific to a child can be much the same to an adult.” 

“Y-Yeah, speakin’ of kids… did Gohan and 21 give you this much of a hard time back in the day?”

The Namekian sighed. Okocim cursed himself. 

“Gohan… well…”

(_Okocim sweats nervously_). “Y-Y’know what? F-Forget I said anything.” (_Frowns_). “Leave it to me to make a pest of myself, to—”

“Beerus…”

“I-I’m such a jerk, I—”

“Beerus.”

“W-Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut and stop being such a—”

“Beerus!”

Piccolo’s hand crushed the half-full bottle, spilling water over his face, chest, and pants. Okocim stood there, his visage stuck in a vacant stare, almost as if he’d just seen Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, Whis, the other Angels, Champa, the other Destroyers, _him_, riding unicycles, packing Uzis, all aimed at him. 

The stare gradually widened, encompassing almost a thousand yards by the time the Namekian called him a fuck-up and—NO! Piccolo doesn’t do that! _He _was nowhere near the Lookout! Then why on Earth did Okocim hear _his_ voice come out of—?

“Beerus!”

The Sphygian at last snapped out of whatever force had him in its grip. Trying to shake off the stupor draped over him, Okocim looked at his crotch, breathed a sigh of relief: no accidents. Not this time.

“Beerus… are you alright?”

(_Grins awkwardly_). “O-O-Of course I’m alright! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You zoned out while we were talking. You started insulting yourself, then you just stood there. You were staring at me like I was somebody else…”

“You sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“Positive. Look, Beerus, I… I know things haven’t been going well for you lately. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I can tell it’s not pleasant. If you ever want to talk, you can come to me, Dende, or Popo. You know that, right?”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Piccolo, I… I…” (_Stands resolute_). “I promise I won’t be a burden. I’ll do extra chores and not bother anyone. You have my word.”

(_Sad Piccolo is…_). “Beerus… Okocim… you mustn’t say such things. You’re not a pest, and you’re not a bother, much less a burden. You’re one of us now.”

(_Frowns again_). “It’s just… I… I keep thinking about the old days, when I…” (_Near tears_). “I… I… I hurt you guys. Then… Zamasu… the Tournament… I… I’m the reason we—”

“Okocim… no.”

Piccolo put his hand on Okocim’s shoulder. The Sphygian stared back in utter bewilderment.

“Huh? You… you don’t hate me?”

“_I_ don’t. I can’t speak for everybody else, though.”

(_Horrified Okocim is…_). “Then… you know about it? The things I…?” (_Piccolo nods_). “Some Destroyer I turned out to be…”

“Look, I know it’ll sound trite, but I know how you feel. We’ve been there; most of us, anyway.”

“But you guys… you guys are good people. I… I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

“We’ve made our fair share of mistakes, too, Okocim. That was then: this is now. Belittling yourself, doubting yourself, it only makes things worse. Believe me. I’ve been down that path, a lot more often than I’d care to admit.”

“I’m sorry, Piccolo, it’s just…”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Now, I think another meditation session would be good for you. We can have lunch afterward.”

“Ok. I’m not all that—” (_Senses something odd_). “Wait a sec. Someone’s coming.”

Okocim’s left ear began to twitch. The cat man shut his eyes, sought out the energy signatures he’d picked up. If his senses were correct, the sources of such signatures were heading to the Lookout.

“[_They’re probably friendly. Piccolo doesn’t seem all that alarmed_].”

“How many are there, Beerus?”

“Seven. Dunno who they are, though.”

“It’s Tien and Chiaotzu. I forgot to mention it, but we’ll be hosting three other students for a couple of weeks.”

“[_Three students… could it be…?_].”

“Okocim!”

The Sphygian looked up. Tien and Chiaotzu landed at the center of the Lookout, with Anise, Cumin, Fennel, and Shu following shortly after. The smiling cat woman waved at the former deity, casually headed his way. In turn, Okocim shyly waved back, his visage fixed in an inarticulate, wistful twinkle, half joyful, half painfully self-aware. 

“H-Hi… how you doin’?” [_What is this, freakin’ grade school!? Get your shit together, Beerus!_].”

“[_Aww, he’s so cute when he gets all bashful like that!_]. So… what’ve you been up to?”

“[_Think **before** you speak, fuck-up!_].O-Oh, y’know… training, getting stronger. You?”

“Same. We were out in the wilderness with 21. [_Almost feel sorry for him, stuck all alone with…_]. Feeling better?”

“Huh? [_Keep it together, Okocim! She’s just a female! You’ve dealt with females before!_].” 

“Master Tien said you got hurt bad. Just wanted to know if… y’know… if you’re doing better by now. [_Get a hold of yourself, Lozada. You’re just talking to somebody you just met, who happens to be male. He’s not one of—_].”

“Y-Yeah… sorta. I-I’ll tell you all about it… i-i-if you want me to, that is… [_Gods dammit, Okocim! You’re literally billions of years old, and you **still** haven’t figured out how to have a nice, simple talk with a female!? Your mother was female! So was your grandmother! So was—_].”

“Sure. I’ll swing by after me and the boys are settled in. Later. [_You’re making a mountain out of an anthill, Anise! Get a grip and interact with that male like the mature, responsible adult you’re supposed to be! He’s not gonna hurt you… not like—_].”

“Y-Y-Yeah! B-Back at ya! [_GODS FUCKING DAMMIT!_].”

The Sphygian barely stopped himself from waving like a giddy child. Okocim had barely turned around when he saw Fennel standing in front of him. His meager luggage firmly in hand, the axolotl all but drilled his stare into the former Destroyer, who at that moment started to sweat as if he’d just finished training nonstop for ten whole centuries.

(_Okocim waves nervously_). “H-Hi there… F-Flannel, right? How you doin’?”

Having rolled his eyes, the amphibian walked away, bowed before the newly arrived Dende and Popo, then entered the temple.

“M-Mr. Beerus? S-Sir?”

The son of Lech turned around. Cumin stood by, his white cane on his right hand, a heavily worn backpack lying by his side.

“O-Oh, h-hi, uh… Cumin, right?”

(_Nervous Cumin is…_). “I… I just wanted to tell you… look… don’t take it personally when Fennel looks at you like that.” (_Ponders a bit_). “He… he used to be an assassin, like me, like…”

“Like Anise?”

(_Cumin frowns_). “Please don’t tell her I said that. I… I dunno how to explain it, but Fennel… he’s… he’s different. If he looks at you like that, it means—”

“<Jintan.>”

The pair turned as Fennel descended the steps to the courtyard. His mood dour, the amphibian “spoke”/signaled accordingly.

“<Lozada is inquiring about you. Find your room and unpack your things.>”

“Be right there.” (_Turns to Okocim_). “Later.”

Once Cumin entered, the axolotl lad spared a final glance at the late Lord Beerus, then disappeared into the inner halls. Okocim swallowed hard.

“Beerus.”

The Sphygian’s heart sank to his stomach. Okocim slowly turned toward Piccolo, who now seemed troubled himself.

“Change of plans. We’ll meditate with the Trio after lunch.”

“Ok.” (_Sees Piccolo is about to leave_). “Uh, Piccolo? About that Fennel kid…”

“He gave you the look, didn’t he? He does that from time to time.”

“And he does it because…?”

“I don’t know all the details. From what I’ve gathered talking with Tien and Chiaotzu, he only does it if he senses you have blood on your hands.”

“Blood? As in… he can tell when you’ve killed?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. You know how people like us can sense ki? Fennel, he… he can sense death in a similar way. I don’t know how else to explain it. Excuse me.”

With that, Piccolo headed into the temple. Okocim gulped. If the axolotl’s stare was this hard on the Namekian… how would _he _bear it? 

_About fifteen minutes later…_

The late Lord Beerus was ill at ease. His hosts and their newest guests chatted, dug into their plates, yet the Sphygian barely touched his food. 

One moment Okocim looked down at his plate, the next he stared at Cumin from the corner of his eye. The rooster boy weighted in quite often, replied enthusiastically, even laughed every now and then, albeit mostly at his own jokes.

“[_Nice kid… hard to believe he was an assassin. Like **I’m** one to judge…_].”

The former Destroyer spared a cautious glance at Fennel. The axolotl lad listened intently, yet seldom contributed, busy as he was assessing his surroundings even as he chewed and swallowed.

Okocim looked away. A couple of sweat drops trickled down from his forehead, fell all the way to the floor, melted into nothingness in the sweltering noontide air. Fennel... damn kid. The sight of him made the cat man want to barricade himself in his room till Judgement Day.

“[_He knows… question is, how much? Also, how did he—?_].”

“Okocim!”

“WHAT!? WHAT HAPPENED, WHAT!?”

The Sphygian all but jumped from his seat. By the time he came to his senses, Okocim saw Piccolo, Dende, Popo, Shu, and guests staring. Cumin felt the tension in the air. Fennel was on edge, ready to pounce in but a moment’s notice. Anise blinked in mild confusion.

“I… I just wanted to ask you if you’ve mastered the Kamehameha…”

(_Shamefaced Okocim is…_). “Oh…” (_Chuckles awkwardly, tugs at shirt collar_). “Y-Yeah, a-about that…”

Okocim sat back down, glanced at his side. Fennel stared ice into the feline: one false move, and the artist formerly known as Beerus would be deader than his godhood.

“I… uh… well…”

(_Piccolo clears his throat_). “Pick up the pace, everyone.”

(_Okocim grins sheepishly_). “Y-Yeah, uh, Piccolo, i-if you guys don’t mind, I-I’ll go ahead and get started on meditation…”

“You’ve barely eaten a thing, Beerus. Remember what we talked about.”

“R-Right… the eating thing.”

The uneasy ex-Hakaishin took a couple of halfhearted bites, his visage wearier by the second. A perplexed Anise was overrun with questions.

“[_Why’s he acting like this?_]. Okocim…”

(_Okocim stops eating_). “Y-Yeah?”

“Wanna spar with me?”

_Wanna spar with me, Cim?_

The cat man dropped his knife and fork, quickly looked away, unable to conceal his frantic breathing. Okocim did his utmost to escape Anise’s inquisitive smile, Cumin’s uneasy puzzlement, Fennel’s doomsday glower, Piccolo’s sweaty brow…

“Okocim?”

“As… Asa… Asahi… I… I’m… sorry… I’m—” 

“Okocim… Okocim…”

The Sphygian was utterly blind, deaf, and mute to the world around him, his stare fixated on something only he could see. Myriad voices bounced within his mind’s eye: some pleaded, others demanded, still others whispered, others still screamed loud enough to shatter his eardrums. 

“A… Asahi… I…”

Before anyone knew it, Piccolo put his right hand on the fallen god’s shoulder as gently as possible, gradually, softly turned him around. The former Lord Beerus was caked in sweat: his bloodshot eyes stung like he’d been crying for hours, the inside of his mouth parched as Sekhmet’s deserts at noontime. Something in Okocim’s mind told him to stand and fight, yet another told him to run and never stop. The ex-deity looked at the palms of his trembling hands, his visage warped in horror while he gaped at something unseen.

An increasingly worried Anise approached, only to be held back by a stoic Mr. Popo shaking his head. At long last, the fallen god snapped out of his trance.

“A… Asa… Asahi… I… w… what… happened… what’s… what’s going on?” (_Sees Piccolo, frowns_). “Did… did I…?”

Piccolo tried to look away, yet could only stare back at the ashamed cat man. After a brief sigh, the Namekian turned to the Tien-Shin Trio.

“Finish up eating. Popo will then guide you to the Meditation Chamber. Excuse us.”

With that, the ex-Hakaishin and Son Goku’s former enemy quit the room. A perturbed Dende dried his brow with a handkerchief. Ill at ease himself, Mr. Popo vainly sought to become engrossed in removing and washing dishes. 

Anise sat back down, barely managed to take a couple of bites. Though her appetite had gone south, the cat woman compelled herself to eat. Kami knows when she’d have the chance to—NO! Subtly hissing, the Tien-Shin pupil shut her eyes, force-fed herself till Dende caught on to what she was doing.

“Anise… it’s ok. You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry.”

“Are you sure? It’s a sin to be wasteful.”

“You’re not being wasteful. We’ll save it for later.”

Anise nodded. As if on cue, Mr. Popo bore away the rest of the plates before returning to the kitchen. A discomfited Fennel sat down on a nearby sofa shortly after Dende excused himself and left to resume his duties. The uneasy Cumin motioned to speak.

“Anise?”

“Yes, Cume?”

“Did you… did you feel that?”

“Yeah. I felt it.”

“Is Mr. Beerus going to be alright?”

“Cumin, I… I don’t know.”

“Is… Is he… one of us?”

(_Anise turns to Cumin_). “What’re you talking about? Beerus isn’t an—”

“M-My bad. T-That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I mean if he’s… y’know, like us.”

“Like us?”

A stoic Fennel flew away from the sofa. Once he landed in front of Anise and Cumin, the axolotl “spoke”/signaled.

“<Beerus is tainted, Lozada. I see it in his eyes, feel it in his ki. Death enshrouds him, like it enshrouds Jintan, you, me, Son Goku, Son Gohan, Raditz, Nappa, Vegeta, 21, Piccolo, Master Tien. He used to be a God of Destruction, so that is only a matter of course.>”

“I realize that, Fenn. I think there’s something else going on, though. Okocim, he… he became like that when I asked him to spar with me.” (_Gasps, frowns_). “I… I must’ve made him remember something… something terrible. Dear Kami, how could I be so—?”

“Anise...”

Anise and Fennel turned towards Cumin. Gripping his cane, the rooster boy stood in front of Lozada, extended his hand towards her. Her forehead creased with regret, the feline took it.

“Remember what Master says: we can’t let fear and ignorance get the better of us. People sometimes hurt one another, and they don’t even realize it. You didn’t mean to upset Mr. Beerus. I’m sure he’ll understand if you explain things to him. I don’t think he’d hold a grudge against you.”

“Cumin…” (_Anise hugs him_). “Thanks.”

(_Fennel “speaks”/signals. Anise lets go of Cumin_). “<Perhaps Jintan is right. I felt fear, terror in Beerus. I did sense anger and animosity as well, but it wasn’t directed towards us. It also felt… alien.>”

“Alien? Like it wasn’t his?”

The somber Fennel nodded, walked a short distance away, stared into the hallway Piccolo and Okocim had disappeared into. Cumin scratched his wattles, turned his head to and fro, as if trying to seize something elusive. For her part, Anise left her chair the moment Mr. Popo returned to the dining hall. The Keeper of the Lookout was far from calm, yet all that time spent washing dishes helped him regain his bearings.

“Young ones… come along. I’ll escort you to the Meditation Chamber.”

(_A friendly Anise smiles_). “We’re right behind you, Mr. Popo.”

The attendant quit the dining hall. Cumin and Fennel followed suit. Anise tarried for a bit. Something else was on her mind.

“Asahi…”

_Meanwhile…_

A fretful Okocim stood stiffly still as Piccolo opened yet another mysterious door. The Sphygian stared in disbelief: beyond its threshold awaited a small, sparsely furnished room, empty save for a circular altar standing at the very center. Seven concentric circles monopolized the greater part of the floor, each growing smaller until reaching its very middle, which featured the symbol of the Guardians of Earth.

Eight large statues surrounded the circles, their hands extended as if meaning to grasp their center. Okocim shuddered: the statues had no discernible countenance, no distinguishing features. They flanked nine near-identical, medium-sized statues resembling Buddha, all seated in a lotus position. The latter bordered ten smaller statues of Horse-Face and Ox-Head, which in turn faced a slightly bigger statuette of King Yan, Ruler of the Underworld.

(_Uneasy Okocim is…_). “Piccolo… where are we?”

“This is the Hall of Remembrance. It’s a holy room meant to fulfill a special purpose.” (_Turns to Okocim_). “Here’s what we’ll do. Once you take off your shoes, you’ll sit at the center of the altar with your legs crossed. After that, I’ll utter an incantation to set the hall’s magic in motion. You’ll experience strange visions, see memories from your past…”

“What kind of memories?”

“Good, bad, everything in between.” 

(_Okocim swallows hard_). “You really think this is a good idea? You already know what happened the first time we did this.”

“Don’t worry about that. This is entirely different from what we did then.”

“Different how?”

Piccolo sifted his words. It wouldn’t do at all to lie, especially in this holy place, but still…

“Zen-Oh’s magic didn’t just make you mortal, Okocim: it altered your entire body, made it so you can’t channel ki like before. What we’ve been doing thus far, all the training, meditation sessions, rites, it’s all meant to heal you, help you regain what you lost… minus your godhood, that is. Now, however, we’ll be conducting a rite called the Summoning of Remembrance.”

(_Okocim ponders_). “Summoning of Remembrance… what, you’re gonna take a peek inside my head, see all the fucked up stuff (pardon my language) that’s there?”

“Pretty much. The purpose of the ritual is to help recover lost or incomplete memories. It can also dispel false ones.”

(_Nervous Okocim is…_). “I dunno. My head’s not a good place to be in, Piccolo. I don’t… I…”

(_Piccolo briefly puts his hand on Okocim’s shoulder_). “It has to be done. You’re carrying a lot of pain, a lot of grief inside of you. I can’t tell if it’s shame, guilt, or something else entirely, but it’s weighing you down, and it’s interfering with your life, even your training. Painful and ugly as it might be, you need to confront it; all of it. That’s the first step towards healing. Take off your shoes, sit down, and start gathering your mind. I’ll begin the incantation.”

A fretful Okocim complied. The fallen deity breathed in, out, in, out, in, out… he felt no less uneasy.

“[_Come on, Okocim! Get your shit together!_].”

Having shut his eyes, Piccolo sat in midair with his legs crossed. His body aglow with energy, the former enemy of Son Goku joined his hands as if in prayer.

(_Translated from Namekian_). “{Seven-Together, Seven-Severed, Eight-Prosper, Eight-Thwart, Nine-Relief, Nine-Ravish, Ten-Replete, Ten-Deplete, Four-Decease, Forty-Two-Trample, Forty-Three-Stillborn…}.”

Okocim sweated profusely while Piccolo repeated the incantation a good nine more times. Isolated images, disembodied snippets came and went: some refused to remain, others overstayed their welcome. His mind all over the place, the Sphygian futilely strove to gain control over the draconic ocean of his thoughts, vainly sought to connect several disparate voices with long forgotten visages, long faded shadows.

_Leave him alone!_

_I only have one child. _

** _ They _ ** _ don’t count._

_You don’t matter. _

_The other one doesn’t matter._

** _ She _ ** _ matters._

_I’d gladly trade you both for **her**._

_Useless! Worthless! Unteachable!_

_Is this how the gods chastise me!? _

_Is this their idea of a joke!?_

_Why couldn’t they take **you** instead!?_

_What did I do to deserve you!?_

_SHE’S DEAD!_

_He is your son, and so is Lanson!_

_SHE’S DEAD!_

_Don’t you dare lump her in with those two fuck-ups!_

_SHE’S DEAD!_

_She was the only good thing you ever did._

_SHE’S DEAD!_

_I don’t hate you. You’re not worth all that effort._

_DEAD!_

_You are weak and pathetic… like him._

_DEAD!_

_You are so fucking useless._

_DEAD!_

_You are a disappointment and a failure._

_SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!_

_I disown you._

_IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!_

_You are not my problem anymore._

_YOUR FAULT!_

_You are nothing to me._

_YOUR FAULT!_

_Go back to sleep, boy. Pray you never wake up._

_Once a Destroyer…_

_They must die. _

_Always…_

_All of them._

_Always…_

_a…_

_a…_

_An hour and a half later…_

A groggy Okocim shut, opened his eyes repeatedly. Every part of him hurt, particularly his head. Once he lifted his upper body from the bed he laid in, the feline realized he was no longer in the Room of Resemblance or whatever, but in his quarters. Piccolo, Dende, Mr. Popo, Shu, Anise, Fennel, and Cumin were nowhere to be seen.

Turning to his left, Okocim found a note on top of a nearby nightstand:

_You screamed and passed out during the ceremony. Apologies for leaving you by yourself: assisting Shu and Tien-Shin Trio with training. Speaking of which, don’t worry about missing your afternoon sessions: we’ll make up for them. Head to the courtyard as soon as possible; full explanation later._

_P._

“[_Explanation… sure could use one of those right about now…_].”

A tired Okocim got up, put his heavy boots back on. The Sphygian took a long, hard look at the palms of his hands: they were clean. No. They only looked that way. So much death and devastation, spilt blood, sweat, tears, all dealt by these hands, for what? Nothing. A whole fucking lot of nothing.

“_Cut the crap already!_”

Okocim gasped, looked around everywhere for the source of that voice.

“_Over here!_”

The fallen god shuddered at the sight of his own reflection: it was Hakaishin Beerus himself, clad in his Destroyer uniform, sourly staring at his counterpart from the other side of a nearby mirror!

“_Have you always been this pathetic!? Whose bright idea was it to stick me with such a fucking coward!?_”

“N-No… y-y-you’re n-n-not—”

“_Don’t waste our time, kiddo. You know the answer to that question_.”

Okocim let out a chuckle, followed by a chortle, a snicker, then full-blown laughter. 

“Zen-Oh, you overrated blue thumbtack! Why don’t you call it quits with this damn farce already!?”

“_This isn’t his doing. You know that_.”

“The fuck do you want?”

“_This ain’t about what **I** want, Cim—_”

“Then what’s it about?”

(_“Beerus” grinds his teeth_). “_I’ll tell you soon as you quit interrupting me, asswipe!_” (_Clears throat_). “_I’m gonna get out. It’s just a matter of time_.”

(_Resolute Okocim is…_). “Like hell you are.”

“_Once a Destroyer, always a…_” (_Okocim remains silent_). “_You’re no fun at all_.”

“Only a piece of shit like you would think that way.”

“_Drop the act, kid. That innocent-victim-of-circumstance bull doesn’t suit you. At all_.”

“I’ll never let you out again. You’re evil. You’re—”

“_…a menace, a freak, a demon, a blight… like I haven’t heard **those** before_.” (_Smirks contemptuously_). “_By the way, you forgot my personal fave: a disgrace. The old bastard sure nailed that one, didn’t he?_” (_“Beerus” laughs out loud_).

“SHUT UP!”

Okocim lost all notion of time and space. When he regained himself, the Sphygian found the mirror shattered to pieces, his hands stained red, still straddling glass fragments. Heaving and panting, the former Destroyer hastily slammed the room’s door open: it hit something, or someone, if the loud “OW!” that followed impact was anything to go by.

“You fucking idiot! Watch what you’re doing!”

(_Horrified Okocim is…_). “Oh gods, I’m so sorry! How careless of—huh!?”

The artist formerly known as Beerus froze. That voice… impossible! It couldn’t be… but it was. The evidence was lying right in front of him, after all.

“Quitela?”

“Beerus?”

(_In unison, as they aggressively point at each other_). “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!? I ASKED YOU FIRST! QUIT IT! STOP TALKING AT THE SAME TIME AS ME!”

Okocim pinched himself. No, he wasn’t dreaming. He most certainly wasn’t high, either: God of Destruction Quitela IX, the Hakaishin of Universe 4, his sworn enemy, was sprawled on the floor inside Kami’s Lookout at Universe 7’s Earth, rubbing his bruised snout, and… wait, what? So what Champa said was true: Zen-Oh did go after the damn rat, made him mortal, to boot.

The Sphygian took a closer look: the late Lord Quitela wore an exact duplicate of Piccolo’s outfit, cape and turban included. What’s more, the Naatsusian seemed to have grown a couple of inches taller, sported a pair of incipient sideburns, both of which would likely be at the same level as the mouth, give or take a couple of weeks. 

Regardless, the former Hakaishin was in no mood to parlay, busied by a furious yet futile struggle to get back up again. His upper body wouldn’t budge, no matter how much mousey boy tossed, turned, spun, heaved, kicked…

“Gods dammit! Stupid-cape-stupid-slug-man-stupid-fucking-weighted-clothing...”

Quitela ranted on, cast metaphorical shit at Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, the Angels, their mothers, their mothers’ mothers, pretty much their whole family tree. Even his predecessor, Sazerac XVIII, received his share of abuse. Not like the son of a bitch didn’t deserve it, but still…

In Okocim’s eyes, the ex-Hakaishin of Universe 4 was little better than a tortoise lying on its back, utterly incapable of regaining its footing as predators zeroed in, relishing what for all intents and purposes had become their latest meal. The Sphygian repressed a laugh, drowned out two or three more, lost it at the fourth or fifth, when he pointed, raucously guffawed at such a sight, all while struggling to catch his breath and wiping tears from his eyes.

(_Pissed Quitela is…_). “The fuck’re you laughing at!?”

(_Okocim rapidly wheezes in and out_). “Man… I sure needed that. Dunno… whether I… whether I oughta… thank you or… punch you in the face.”

“Why, you sonova… HYAH!”

Before Okocim even blinked, blinding red light emanated from Quitela’s cheeks, concealing him from view. When it faded, the late Lord Beerus thought his eyes were deceiving him. Two Quitelas! How!? Why!?

The cat man’s thoughts took him back nearly two years prior. There he was, still a Destroyer, at the Tournament of Power, now cheering, now jeering as Goku and company advanced and retreated during the onslaught of Universe 4. Save for the giant orc guy (Mink, was it?), none of Quitela’s warriors were much to look at, yet strength wasn’t what gave U4’s fighters their edge. Their skill, cunning, teamwork, and abilities made them a force to be reckoned with, nearly compensated for their flaws… key word being “nearly.” Those guys bit the dust and were erased along with the other universes, but damn if they didn’t put up one hell of a fight.

Now Okocim remembered. One of the fighters from Universe 4, one Chanka or something, little blue guy, red cheeks on his face. He did pretty much what Quitela had just done, only he engulfed the entire arena in a scarlet dome while conjuring veritable illusionary armies of previously erased warriors from other universes. Far as the son of Lech knew, his mousey counterpart had never used such a technique… until now.

“Don’t just stand there, dipshit! Help me up!”

Once his duplicate complied and evaporated into thin air, Quitela stared ice into the Sphygian’s every pore. The Naatsusian coldly removed, tossed aside his turban and cape, both of which cracked the tiles on the floor upon impact. Okocim’s suspicions were confirmed: the rat had indeed grown a full head of jet-black hair to go with those sideburns.

“[_Wow… guy sure cleans up nice, to say the lea—what am I saying!? Focus, Okocim!_]. So now you’re stealing moves from everybody? Even your warriors? And here I was about to ask if you had any shame...”

(_Quitela cracks his neck and knuckles_). “You’re one to talk, papa’s boy. You’re right, though. One of my warriors did use this technique. Ultrasonic Exchange, is what it’s called.”

Okocim gasped: Quitela’s voice was enmeshed with that of another! The Naatsusian’s tone discordantly clashed with a more high-pitched, feminine tone, ominously otherworldly, much like the voice the cat man heard every now and then.

Okocim makes to ask a question, yet can’t utter it. The rat flies at him, connects a punch to his face, sends the cat flying into the next hallway, its wall crumbling to dust as the feline somehow gets back up and makes for the front entrance, all but deaf to the pain his body and mind are screaming in. All he wants is to black out, slip away, but he mustn’t.

Okocim reaches the courtyard in time to catch Piccolo, Dende, Popo, 21, Shu, and the Trio running to him. Before the group can exchange the proverbial are-you-alrights and what not, Quitela storms out of the temple, shoots multiple ki blasts at the hated Beerus, who barely dodges as the others take to the air.

(_Enraged 21 is…_). “Quitela! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

“You got eyes, Bug Thing. I suggest you use ‘em.”

(_Piccolo reaches the area_). “Stand down, Quitela! That’s an order!”

The rodent laughs, albeit not with his customary “Kekeke!” Rather, it feels like a flurry of spite merged with heartless sallies, with a dash of scorn thrown in for good measure. Okocim’s ears confirm his suspicions: that being floating before Piccolo and 21 looks like Quitela, even sounds somewhat alike… but it isn’t him.

“_You are here…_.”

“Quitela” looks on past the Namekian and his pupil to the ground below, where Okocim watches: _he_ is here as well. His head palpitating loudly, the cat man proffers a doleful groan.

(_Worried Anise is…_). “Okocim?”

“No! Stay back!”

“_At long last…_”

“Can’t… control it…”

“_Goddess…_”

“Okocim” screams a heaven-seizing scream, powers up in a rage that shatters the floor beneath his feet into minute fragments as Piccolo and company fly away to safety. Utterly blind, deaf, and mute to all entreaties, the late Lord Beerus fades within his own mind: The Presence tears off Okocim’s shirt, removes and tosses aside his heavy boots. 

(_“Quitela” smiles scornfully_). “Long has it been, blood of Artois… or should I say, “vessel of Artois”?”

Piccolo and the rest are beyond confounded. That woman, or whatever it is that’s playing Quitela like a fiddle of flesh, makes like she’s about to blast them into oblivion, yet a familiar, gravel-like tone stops her.

“Okocim” (_firm and stately_): “Stay your hand, Zunia. Do not squander your power on such worms[1].”

“Quitela” (_laughs in deity_): “Worms, you say? Zivek, you pitiful scion… your feelings belie your words[2].”

“Okocim”: “Never mind my feelings, spawn of Rosángel. My fists shall speak hereon.”

“Quitela”: “High time they were silenced for good.”

“Quitela” pounces on “Okocim,” who jumps above their back, grabs their shirt, throws them into a nearby wall, shoots a halfway decent ki blast at the rat, who braces themselves, then swats the projectile away with a sweep of their left hand. The redirected blast heads to the direction of Piccolo and company. The Namekian deflects it much the same way, watches it fall to the earth below. No harm done.

“Okocim” cups his hands together.

“Ka… me…”

“Quitela” preempts with a technique of his own.

“Masenko!”

“HA!”

The energy beams collide. “Okocim” puts every last bit of grit into the attack, but to no avail: the Masenko quickly devours the Kamehameha, barely allows the Sphygian time to leap to safety.

“Quitela” makes to shoot a volley of blasts at their foe: nothing happens.

“What’s happening!? Why can’t I—?”

The Naatsusian can’t even finish the sentence: several Tri-Beams find their target, nearly obliterate the Lookout itself pinning them to the ground. Their body racked with pain, a spiteful “Quitela” looks up: the Tien-Shin Trio, 21, and Shu hover above, pour their energies into one huge attack.

“Anise! How long can you keep this up?”

“I… I don’t know, Piccolo!”

(_Frantic 21 is…_). “We’ll stall for as long as we can! Find Dende and Popo! Hurry!”

The Namekian nods, disappears from view. Meanwhile, a roaring “Okocim” dashes toward the rodent, hell-bent on tearing them apart. The unflappable “Quitela” staggers back to their feet, all but deaf to their aching body, which begins to sear with flame-like argent. 

Wholly enveloped in silver energy, the mouse flies toward the group, moves their right arm in front of their eyes, as if it were holding something: an energy-powered pavise[3] materializes out of thin air, affords sufficient protection for the fiend to launch themselves at neck-breaking speed, shrugging off the worst of the joint blast with a malicious smile on their countenance.

Piccolo, Dende, and Popo see it. There’s nothing they can do: the incantation must be completed, or all is lost.

“NO!”

Okocim suddenly changes course, makes for the group up in the sky instead.

“_What are you doing!? Forget about those termites! Zunia is our target!_”

Okocim, son of Lech, turns a deaf ear to Zivek’s threats-slash-entreaties. The Sphygian envelops himself in burning ki, all but zooms to where Anise and company are, still pouring all of their might into the joint attack.

Back on the ground, Piccolo, Dende, and Mr. Popo stare in disbelief: Okocim has overcome The Presence! He’s taken to the air in a mad dash to catch the possessed rat, but he won’t make it! Anise, Fennel, and Cumin brace for impact: all of sudden, something dashes past them.

21! He rushes to counter “Quitela” head on, screaming like a demon straight out of H.F.I.L. as the mouse's energy shield breaks and dissipates altogether! The rat chuckles, shoots a silver energy image of themselves: it goes through the android, who screams, falls back as if something fast and heavy just struck him straight in the gut. 

Though 21’s otherwise uninjured, the attack creates a green-colored, energy-fueled afterimage of the android, which then transforms into a plume of pure light that flies toward “Quitela” and crashes straight into them. Screaming in inconceivable pain, the rodent exudes a ki explosion that overwhelms the group’s attack, severely injures everyone in the vicinity, sends them all falling to the ground beneath the Lookout.

“ANISE!” 

(_Anise recovers_). “21 and I will take Shu and Fennel! Save Cumin!”

The Sphygian nods, complies in a heartbeat. Fennel appears to be none the worse for wear himself, as he quickly resumes flight, grabs hold of the Shiba Inu till the latter lets him know he’s alright. Meanwhile, Okocim is literally burning energy trying to reach Cumin, but he's not fast enough. Before 21, Anise and Okocim blink, the axolotl and the dog are already zipping through the air, working in tandem to slow down the falling rooster. They’re not strong enough to lift him. Fortunately, the android and the felines make the scene, catch the semiconscious bird before he plummets further down. 

“Are you ok, Cume?” 

“A-Anise… I… I-I’m ok. M-My eyes…”

The fowl boy is soon flying again, yet his wraparound glasses are a total wreck. Much against his will, the artist formerly known as Beerus has a good look at Cumin’s eyes, becomes unnerved before the prominent veins around the scleras and irises. The Sphygian feels strange: part of him wants to run away and vomit his guts out, yet all that goes flying out the window when the smoke below clears.

“Quitela” is very much alive, but something’s different. Their _gi_ damaged beyond repair, the bare-chested Naatsusian heaves, pants heavily, howls horrifically while a series of strange incisions spontaneously cut, carve, sear themselves into their flesh. Bleeding at some parts, cauterized at others, the incisions assume the form of shining, pulsating lines leading up to a black spot on the rat’s forehead, which takes the form of a golden gnomon triangle enclosed within seven concentric circles. When it’s finally over, a teary-eyed “Quitela” takes a look at themselves.

"_So this is the power of Kuraimono_[4]_… you have done well, descendants. This oversized vermin was an apt choice indeed, never mind the fact that he is not of my lineage. Speaking of which…_” (_Turns to Okocim and co._). “_Is something the matter, Zivek? Have you lost your fighting spirit? Has age caught up with you? Or are you become tired of that flesh which enshrouds you? Come hither, that I may rid you of it_.”

Okocim shudders. He doesn’t have the strength to stop “Quitela” _and _prevent The Presence from regaining control of his own body. Piccolo, Dende, and Popo should be almost done with the ritual, but they still need a bit more time. Dammit, why aren’t Goku, Vegeta, Raditz, and Nappa here already!? No way Piccolo or whoever hasn’t contacted them at least twice by now! Even if that were the case, they couldn't have possibly missed those massive energy outbursts!

What to do, what to do? Fighting “Quitela” is certainly doable, yet there’s no guarantee Okocim and the others will come out on top, let alone that they’ll survive long enough for Piccolo and company to do their thing, or for Goku and the rest to get their asses over to the Lookout. The Sphygian is at a loss: it’d be one thing if this were the Quitela he loved to hate back in the day, but…

“[_Hey, wait a sec! This creature’s using Quitela’s body, like that Zivek creep’s using mine! That means… yeah… I see. If my hunch is correct, we might just get outta this one…_].”

The cat man girds up his loins. What happens during the next few minutes determines whether he and his newfound allies will live to see tomorrow. Ignoring the increasingly severe migraine pounding at his temples, the former Lord Beerus descends to the ground below.

(_Alarmed Anise is…_). “Okocim, wait! What’re you—”

The Sphygian looks back, a short-lived smile on his face.

Zivek: “_Stop resisting, fool! You are nothing without me!_”

Okocim (_winces_): “That’s… a lie…”

Zivek: “_It is no lie! I and mine are the source of your bloodline, your power!_”

Okocim (_still wincing_): “Take your bloody power… blow it out your ass… and I do mean _your_ ass.”

Okocim lands atop the ruined courtyard: it’s now or never.

(_Resolute Okocim is…_). “Listen up.”

(_“Quitela” laughs_). “_Brave of you to approach me, blood of Artois, yet it was foolish to discard Zivek’s gifts, a mistake you will soon—_”

(_Still resolute_). “Shut up.”

“_What!?_”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“_How dare you!? You blaspheme God Herself, filth!_”

(_Okocim rolls his eyes_). “Oh please. I’ve been alive for eons, little lady. I’ve seen plenty of gods: good ones, evil ones, competent ones, crappy ones. You ain’t anywhere near _their_ level. No god worth their salt would even think of dirtying their hands with any of the fucked up bullshit you’ve pulled thus far.”

“_I will not be judged by the likes of you, scum of Artois!_”

“Whatever. Now I’m nowhere near a saint myself, but you… you disgust me. If I still were a Destroyer, I’d Hakai you before you got to throw a single punch. Tell you what: give Quitela his body back, and I promise not to slash you to ribbons. Deal?”

“_I will not be denied, and I will not be bargained with! Your life is—_”

Before everyone else knows it, Okocim knocks “Quitela” down to the ground with a backhanded punch, much to the astonishment of his audience. The glowering Sphygian approaches the fallen rodent, cracks his neck and knuckles.

“Bitchy little parasite. I have nothing more to say to you. I want to speak with Riazul Sauza. I know you’re still in there somewhere, Quitela, so listen up: I’ve misjudged you. You’re not a worthy rival. You don’t deserve my hate. Hell, you don’t even deserve my time. You’re just another bottom-feeder, another asshole who blundered his way into power he didn’t earn, let alone deserve. Seems me and you got that much in common, at the very least.”

“_You… filth…_”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “I mean, really, what self-respecting Hakaishin gets his body hijacked by some boogeyman (or boogeywoman, as it were), and a wimpy one at that? And I thought Zamasu was pathetic! He’d be livid, outraged, if I put him and you on the same boat! Can’t say I blame ‘im…” 

“_You **will** be silent, mortal!_”

Okocim’s ears twitch. The Sphygian’s definitely on the right track.

“Quitela” jumps back to their feet, makes to shoot a ki blast at Okocim’s countenance with the left hand, but the cat man literally zooms to the rodent, grabs the arm, hits it just right. The Naatsusian yells in excruciating agony. The sickening sound of a snap tells Piccolo and the others all they need to know by the time the cat man's afterimage fades away.

(_Okocim yawns_). “Wonder if he’s watchin’…”

(_A royally pissed “Quitela” cradles their newly broken arm_). “_Who!? Who is watching!?_” 

“Ol’ Sazerac. Wonder what he’d think of you now, Sauza.”

“_That is none of your concern!_”

(_Okocim grins cheekily_). “Figures he’d probably say something to the tune of… (_Clears throat, speaks with a slight Cajun accent_). “‘I do declare, I used t’ be a motherfucking God of Destruction, then I went and got myself killed by some mothertruckin’ plague rat!’”

(_Zunia’s voice begins to distort. Quitela’s voice bleeds into hers_). “_Be silent…_”

(_Still doing the accent_). “‘I mean, really, he don’t even make for a halfway decent piece of ass! I’ve had my way with little girls who put up more of a fight than _he_ ever did! Mebbe I should’ve asked one of _them_ to succeed me. No way they could suck as much as _you_, Sauza.’”

(_Even more distorted_). “_I shall not warn you again, mortal!”_

“‘Seriously, there must’ve been so many other handsomer boys out there. Even so, I sure don’t regret buying you off that discount rack of slaves. I ‘spose there are worse ways to waste money—’”

(_In Quitela’s voice_). “SHUT UP! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU!”

“Quitela” dashes towards Okocim. The Sphygian sidesteps, trips up the mouse with his leg. The rodent cuts off the fall with the palm of the right hand, connects a well-placed jumping mule kick to the Sphygian’s gut. Okocim shrugs it off, retaliates with a right hook, then a left one, another right one, another left one, and another, and another…

Sauza is royally pissed. His body starts to shine with that argent glow. Okocim and the rest can’t believe their eyes. Quitela’s fur changes from yellow to several shades of green as legions of black spots start to pop up all over him, finishing with him growing a tail almost identical to 21’s! Before anybody can react, the ex-Hakaishin from U4 rips out his broken left arm and discards it. Couple of screams and grunts later, a bloody new arm explodes into place, replacing the lost limb! 

A fatigued, panting “Quitela” smirks wickedly, gestures at his hated rival to approach. Okocim responds in earnestness. No longer weighed down by his training gear, the Sphygian makes full use of his speed and agility. In the blink of an eye, cat and mouse lose themselves in a whirlwind of fists, kicks, sweeps, and afterimages. The rodent can barely keep up, receives as much punishment as he dishes out, yet it doesn’t matter. The powers Sauza “borrowed” from 21 slowly but steadily heal and regenerate him. 

Okocim (_as he and “Quitela” are fighting_): “[_This isn’t good. I’m faster and stronger, but he’s gonna outlast me at this rate. Dammit, where’re Goku and the others!?_].”

Zivek: “_You are being foolish, blood of Artois! Surrender yourself to me! It is the only way we can prevail!_”

Okocim: “[_Hell fucking no! You’re not gonna use me again, demon! I’m over and done with that whole Destroyer bullcrap! Never again, you hear me!? Never again!_].”

Zivek: “_Yield, or we are lost! Surely you do not wish Anise Lozada and your allies to come to harm?_”

Okocim (_furious_): “[_Don’t you dare touch them, you freak! Do it and I’ll kill myself right here, right now!_]." 

Zivek: “_That will not stand! If either of us should perish, so will the other!_”

Okocim (_ponders a bit_). “[_Look, I think me an’ you got off on the wrong foot, pal. If you really wanna help out, you can start by telling me everything you know about that Zulia bitch_].”

Zivek: “_Zunia and her ilk are our sworn foe. My sire tasked me with terminating her and all that has to do with her. Those of her lineage possess an ability called Energy Graft, which permits them to steal life energy from their foes and use it to learn techniques and abilities otherwise inaccessible to them. That is how she gained powers of regeneration from that composite being, that “android_.”

Okocim: “[_“Those of her lineage”? But she and Quitela aren’t related. She said as much_].”

Zivek: “_She spoke the truth. I know not how the one called Riazul Sauza came to acquire this power, or how he came to be her thrall. I know not how to rid him of the Energy Graft, yet I know how to counteract it…_”

Okocim: “[_I’m all ears…_].”

Zivek: “_Energy Graft grants its wielder abilities “stolen” from other beings, yet most wielders have little to no control over what sort of powers they acquire. Lastly, the abilities thus gained have but a fraction of the strength and effectivity of their source…_”

Okocim: “[_I see what you mean. Quitela’s regenerating, but it’s going slow. If my ki senses’re tellin’ the truth, growing that new arm left him very weak. We gotta make him waste energy, keep him on the ground. I may not be able to stop him if he takes flight again. If we stall long enough, Piccolo, Dende, and Popo can bring him under control with that ritual of theirs. Also, we might get help from some friends of mine… if they’d just show the fuck up already!_].”

Okocim pushes on his offensive, but it’s all in vain. Tiredness eventually gets the better of the cat man, and “Quitela” gains the upper hand. Seizing an opening, the Naatsusian fires a ki shot at Okocim’s left kneecap, yet only manages a pitiful blast that goes straight through the limb, charring nerves, bones, tendons, and dropping the screaming feline to his knees. 

(_Resigned Okocim is…_). “So this is how it ends. I’m sorry, everybody. I tried.”

“NOW!”

At that moment, 21, Shu, and the Tien-Shin Trio sweep in. Anise’s claws severely maul the rodent’s countenance, every part of him still unharmed. Meanwhile, Cumin, 21, and Shu cut off Zunia’s escape by shooting several small ki blasts at Quitela’s face and upper body. Fennel finds an opening. The axolotl repeatedly, rapidly strikes several pressure points all across the mouse’s frame, paralyzes him, hampers his ability to channel energy. Thus cut off from their powers, "Quitela" reverts to normal, becomes a helpless invalid… for all of five seconds. 

Zunia unleashes another burst of power, regenerates herself, heals her superficial wounds in a literal flash. Big mistake. She just burned through much needed ki reserves, and it still wasn't enough to undo the paralysis and nerve damage Fennel inflicted.

The cornered “Quitela” preps another Energy Graft. Their body burning with silver ki, they take aim and fire. Nothing happens.

(_Vindicated Okocim is…_). “[_Well done, Sauza. Looks like I was right, after all…_].”

The Naatsusian turns tail and flies away, but doesn’t get very far. Goku, Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz cut off their escape route. Their very frames alight with Super Saiyan Blue, the stern warriors pummel Sauza without a word, leaving “Quitela” in a state of semi-consciousness. Soon as that happens, Goku grabs the mouse, Instant Transmits him to Piccolo and company, and jumps out of the way.

"PICCOLO! IT'S NOW OR NEVER!"

“PURITY SURGE! DIVINE CLEANSING WAVE!”

Okocim and the rest couldn’t bear to watch. In vain they sought to tune out Sauza’s screams while his body spontaneously combusted in unearthly argent, which quickly spread to his eyes, mouth, ears, hands, feet, till the former Hakaishin collapsed, burnt like an oversized Roman candle. Some five or six minutes later, it was all over, Popo whisked away the unconscious Riazul after Dende healed him. Okocim took a glance at the rat. He seemed to be… crying?

“Are you guys alright?”

(_Okocim sharply turns toward Goku_). “Where the fuck were you guys!?”

(_Nappa is not amused_). “H-Hey, don’t point fingers at _us_, cat! We would’ve gotten here sooner, but Kakarrot’s Instant Transmission wasn’t working right!”

“You seriously expect me to believe that!? What kinda fool do you take me for!?”

(_A stoic Vegeta looks over the horizon_). “He’s telling the truth, Beerus. Make of it what you will.”

Meanwhile, Raditz produced a cellphone and dialed a number.

“Basil? It’s safe. Bring him over.”

Piccolo and Dende reached the group. Soon after, three other fighters landed at the ruined courtyard. Okocim recognized Basil and Lavender, two canine warriors from Universe 9. That other fellow who was with them could be nobody other than… weird. He could’ve sworn Sidra wasn’t _that_ hairy… and he certainly didn’t have a tail.

“Is everyone alright?”

(_21 finishes examining Shu’s and the Trio’s wounds_). “We’re ok, Sensei. Nothing some magic and a bit of bedrest can’t cure.” (_Frowns_). “Sorry I got caught by that… that thing Quitela did. He was gonna attack the others and—”

(_Piccolo puts his hand on 21’s shoulder_). “It’s alright, 21. Everyone’s safe. That’s all that matters.” (_Piccolo turns to Okocim_). “Beerus… thank you. Let’s get you guys healed up.”

Dende summoned his magics. The artist formerly known as Beerus fully recovered. His leg was working again. The Guardian of Earth continued until all the injured were patched up. Everyone else went into the citadel, yet Okocim remained outside for a bit, looked on ahead: the sun was setting.

“Okocim.” 

The feline turned around.

“Anise? What’re you doin’ here?”

“I was looking for you. You took one hell of a beating.”

(_Grins awkwardly_). “H-Hey, you guys got mauled pretty bad too, y’know.” (_Frowns_). “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? What for?”

“This whole mess started when I bumped into Quitela in the hallway. We argued, and I—”

“Okocim… no. What happened wasn’t your fault. That was a very brave thing you did. You bought enough time for Goku and the others to get here. We’re alive, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Yeah… and I only had to… never mind.” (_Looks over the horizon_). “Y’know, it’s funny. I’ve been alive for eons. I’ve watched more sunsets than most beings ever will, but this… this is the first time in ages I’ve really seen one. I know I’m probably not making sense, but…”

Anise looked in the same direction, then took a side-glance at the Sphygian. Okocim wasn't hunching over. He wasn't sad or scared anymore. He still didn't look all that happy, yet now he stood tall and proud before the fading sun. Who was this guy? How on Earth did he go from a skittish, terrified wreck to... well, something else entirely, all in a matter of hours?

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Let’s go back inside. We could both use some rest.”

“Right behind you.”

Anise took her leave. Having taken one last look at the twilit sky, a taciturn Okocim followed suit…

* * *

[1] Pronounced “Zoo-nee-ah.” Possible V.A.’s: Jeff Bennett (Brooklyn, _Gargoyles_), Robert "Rob" L. Mungle (Amanojaku, _Ghost_ _Stories_), Douglas Forsythe Rye (Lucifer, _Castlevania: The Lecarde Chronicles 2_), Ron Yuan (Scorpion, _Mortal Kombat 11_).

[2] Pronounced “Zai-bek” (as in “cyborg”). Possible V.A.’s: Kari Walhgren (Kitana, _Mortal Kombat 11_), Karen Strassman (Kitana, _Mortal Kombat X_), Tara Platt (Edelgard von Hresvelg, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_). 

[3] Cylindrical-shaped shield, large enough to protect the user’s entire body (Source: Wikipedia).

[4] From the Japanese “kurai mono” (暗いもの) = “dark ones” (Source: Google Translate).


	7. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okocim and company's training continues. However, trouble may be closer than they think...
> 
> Special thanks to 6spiritkings:
> 
> www.deviantart.com/6spiritkings
> 
> www.furaffinity.net/user/6spiritking

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods I, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One:** Beerus**

Chapter 7: Infiltration

_The next day, Kami’s Lookout, 1:30 PM…_

A tired-looking Okocim took a good four deep breaths. Once he’d steeled himself, the Sphygian knocked thrice on the door before him.

“Go away.”

Having opened it as slowly and gently as possible, the feline pushed in a serving trolley, made little to no noise in the process. Discretion told Okocim the guest would prefer the door remained open, and so it stayed. So far, so good.

“I said go away.”

The late Lord Beerus turned deaf ears to the bedridden patient. Humming to himself, the cat man opened the lid to a pot placed over a warmer and served two platefuls of _tonkotsu_[1], one for himself, the other for…

(_Pissed Riazul is…_). “Are you deaf? What part of “go away” didn’t you understand?” (_Okocim doesn’t answer_). “The hell do you want?”

“I want lots of things, Sauza. Right now, however, I’m serving you lunch. Popo said you barely had any breakfast.”

“Piccolo… he put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He said you weren’t feeling well and couldn’t train with us. He, 21, Goku, and the rest’re going over things with the Tien-Shin Trio, Shu, Lavender, Basil, and Sidra back at the Training Hall. Popo and Dende are busy guarding Earth, so Piccolo asked me to make your lunch today. Did he fill you in on all that’s happened so far?”

(_Riazul nods, smiles wryly_). “Didn’t know you could cook. Didn’t you have Whis to take care of that?”

“Popo’s been teachin’ me. What about you? You miss not having Cognac around?” (_Sauza keeps quiet_). “You might wanna sit up now.”

Having realized the feline wasn’t going to leave any time soon, Sauza did as instructed, allowed his blanket to fall to his lap. The meager light from a lamp at a nearby nightstand revealed the telltale markings. 

The former Lord Beerus shuddered. The disgraced Hakaishin from U7 couldn’t dismiss the sights and sounds of the previous day: Riazul screaming, his face warped in pain as those things seared, slashed, carved themselves into his flesh, all the better for that Zunia creature to make him her plaything. 

Okocim got a hold of himself. The cat man handed Sauza a bowl, a pair of chopsticks, and a _chirirenge_[2], sat next to the bed after he helped himself to some, and ate quietly for a bit. 

“Something wrong, Lech-Sa?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at my Channel Ducts for almost a minute now.” 

“Channel Ducts? That’s what they’re called?”

“They expose my body’s ki paths, keep ‘em unblocked so energy flows freely and easily into Channel Points.”

Sauza moved his legs out of the bed, exposing the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands. All four points bore the same seven-circled gnomon which palpitated on the mouse’s forehead, the middle of his chest, and the center of his upper back. The late Lord Quitela grumbled. It didn’t take Bulma to realize he was in pain. 

“[_His feet… dear gods… that must’ve hurt like hell!_]. Sauza… there’s something I don’t quite understand, though. Me, Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, the Angels, the other Destroyers, we saw you quite a few times throughout the eons. You didn’t have those things then.”

“I did. The sons of bitches who did this to me, they used ritual knives forged from Covontilum, or Sun Cutter, an ultra-rare metal infused with powerful magic, rumored to be older than the Multiverse itself. It’s so rare, even _I_ had trouble getting ahold of it back in the day, and I had connections in all the black markets of Universe 4, mind you.” (_Okocim rolls his eyes_). “Long story short, wounds inflicted by such weapons can’t be healed by any means, magical or otherwise... at least not completely. Goes without saying, it’s one of the few wishes Super Shenron _can’t_ grant.”

(_Okocim yawns_). “Sorry ‘bout that, Sauza. It’s not that I ain’t interested. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Can’t remember the last time I got some halfway decent shuteye.”

“You can’t be serious! You literally slept whole centuries away!”

“I used to be a god back then. Before and after that, I’ve always had a hard time falling and staying asleep. I’m surprised Piccolo and Vegeta haven’t regaled you with stories ‘bout how I wake up screaming in the middle of the night…” (_Realizes something_). “You ain’t interested in that, aren’t you? Can’t say I blame ya. Now, you were sayin’ something about magic metal you can’t get healed from if it cuts you.”

“I asked Cognac to remove the incisions with Angel Magic, but he couldn’t, so instead he cast a concealing spell, made the ducts and points invisible, kept ‘em inactive. The Omni-King, Grand Priest, the Angels, a handful of higher-ranking Kais, magic users with extraordinary skill and centuries worth of experience in the esoteric arts, those’re the only beings who could see through the illusion. If I had to guess, when Zen-Oh did whatever it was that made me mortal, he also broke the spell that kept these damn things all nice and quiet.” (_Riazul scowls, speaks in a Durango-Jalisco hybrid Mexican accent_). “_¡Pinche morrito azul, hijo de su regalada madre! A poco lo hizo a propósito na’ más que por joder. No más esperen que me recupere. Le voy a meter tremenda patada por el culo que pa’ Dios se va a acordar de mí toda la eternidad_[3].”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind. Wasn’t talking about you, anyway.”

“Didn’t know you could speak… uh, what’s that name again?”

“Spanish. The people who raised me (and I use the term very loosely) spoke it.”

Okocim ate in silence for at least a minute and a half. When he was halfway done, something clicked in his mind.

“Hey, Sauza…”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else I’m wondering. I have it on good authority you used t' be pretty good at energy-based attacks. I’d say you still are, all things considered.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Active or not, I find it hard to believe those incisions didn’t play a part in it. I mean, my parents were among the strongest, most skilled Hakaishin in recent history. They were pretty good at manipulating ki (hell of a lot better than _me_, anyway), but they weren’t anywhere near _your_ level. Sazerac himself was no slouch, either.”

“Dunno anything about that. I don’t recall seeing Sazerac with these things. If he had ‘em, he probably used a concealing spell, too.” (_Frowns_). “As for me… maybe you’re onto something.”

Okocim swallowed hard. Sweating uneasily, the horrified Sphygian turned to the rodent.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?”

“Sorry, man. It’s just… I just can’t believe it—”

“You can’t believe what? That people do fucked-up things to each other? C’mon, Lech-Sa. You’re a lot of things, but naïve isn’t one of them.”

“Don’t call me “Lech-Sa." Call me “Beerus” or “Okocim.” (_Okocim scowls_). “Lech-Sa… I hate that damn name, like you hated it when people called you “heir of Sazerac.” (_Chuckles_). “One time you even Hakai’d one of my father’s favorite retainers ‘coz he called you that out loud in public. Good thing Whis and Cognac were close by, or Father would’ve beaten the ever-lovin’ cat-shit outta you. Had that happened… well, let’s just say getting Hakai’d would've been a mercy. A small one, granted, but a mercy all the same.”

“(_Kekeke!_). Yeah, I remember. It happened during our Ascension Ceremony. Glad to know you still find that funny.”

(_Stern Okocim is…_). “I don’t. Then and now, I hated you for what you did, but damn if the bastard didn’t have it comin’. Father’s manservants knew he loathed my stinking guts, so they were always competing with each other over who could make my life more of a living hell. Only a coupla of ‘em treated me with a shred of decency, mostly 'coz they were obligated to do so. That, or Mother or Grandfather happened to be visiting that day. Unlike Father, _they_ didn't put up with that bullshit (pardon my language). Otherwise, fucking sons of bitches did everything they could get away with, short of hitting me, that is. That’s the one line Tusker wouldn’t let them cross. Nobody but ol’ Lech himself could touch his heir-slash-punching bag.”

“Is there a point to this story?”

“My bad. It’s just… I’d see Sazerac when Mother and Father took me and Lanson to those damn cotillions our predecessors used to host. Didn’t matter where he was, or what was the occasion. Guy would stride into the place, win everybody over without even trying. He pretty much had the Omni-King and Grand Priest eating out of the palm of his hand. Other than Goku, I don’t know of anyone else who’s managed that, 'cept maybe Bonak… uh... XXXV, was it?"

"XXXI. Geene's predecessor. Pretty cool guy, at least compared to the jerks that came before him."

"Yeah, he's ok in my book, too. So anyway, ol’ Lyman was nice to me every time I saw him. He’d give me sweets and other stuff. It was such a hassle, keeping ‘em hidden from Lanson, Mother, Father, and their lackeys.” (_Quitela yawns_). “Point is, back then I didn’t understand why everybody hated him so much. He seemed like such a cool, down-to-Earth kinda guy. Know what I mean?” (_Frowns_). “Wasn’t till centuries later when I found out ‘bout all those fucked up things he did to children, women, even animals. I couldn’t believe it. Part of me still doesn’t. I… I just don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?”

“Come again?”

“It was pretty much the same with your folks. When Tusker and Afsnath were in sight, everybody would gush all over them, praise ‘em up to the heavens, ramble on for hours 'bout what great work they were doing with their universes, how they were such a friggin’ boon to the Multiverse, an inspiration to gods and mortals alike, that kinda crap.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Yeah. Then me an’ Champa came along, shat all over their legacy. Gods, I’m such a—”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Bawl your eyes out in front of me. I’m not interested in your sob stories, Beerus. You’re gonna have to look elsewhere if you want a shoulder to cry on. ‘Sides, that so-called legacy of theirs, it’s overrated. Same applies to Sazerac and his time in office.”

“I don’t quite follow…”

“Don’t be dense. You know exactly what I mean.” (_Sighs_). “Okocim… your folks were excellent Destroyers. They did wonderful things for Universe 6 and 7, but that doesn’t change the fact they were terrible people. You and your brother know this, better than anybody. Soon as Afsnath and Tusker left, everybody would start gossiping ‘bout how your old man was an egotistical, domineering bully and a horndog, how your mother was a male-hating, power-hungry bitch with ice instead of blood in her veins. They even used to say she slept with you and Lanson.”

“They _what_?!” 

“(_Kekeke!_). Don’t worry. I know it wasn’t true. Those people probably knew, too.” (_Turns serious_). “They just didn’t care. That’s what people do. They talk. They hate being alone. They’re terrified of silence. They’re scared everyone else will see them for the weak, pathetic sacks of shit they really are. They tear their garments, whine and groan about how bad and horrible the world is, ‘bout how other people are the worst, but they don’t do a damn thing about it. They’re addicted to calling everyone else out on their bullcrap, then get all defensive when others do the same to _them_.”

“Quitela…”

(_Sauza looks at himself_). “Anyway, you’re probably wondering how I got these things. In case you haven't figured it out by now, I was one of Sazerac’s guinea pigs. Me and other children, we spent weeks having our bodies carved, slashed, and burned, all under his supervision.” (_Scowls_). “Most of the kids I used to be friends with didn’t make it. Gods know what became of the ones who did. Anyway, Sazerac, he took part in the rituals, did most of the initial investiture.” (_Notices Okocim’s confusion_). “Euphemism. It means the cuts and burns that turned me into what you’re seeing: a Ki Bandit, Energy Grafter, Soul Stealer, Might Reaper, Skill Taker, Craft Chaser, etc. There’re over a hundred synonyms, but at heart they designate the same damn thing: a parasite, a bottom-feeder, a slave…”

“Sauza… I…”

“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” (_Realizes something_). “You feel sorry for me, don’t you?” (_Okocim keeps quiet_). “Well, don’t. Shit happens. _Your_ life was no bed of roses, either. Otherwise, you’d never have become a God of Destruction.”

Okocim looked further down. Like his Universe 7 counterpart, the former Lord Quitela wore a pair of heavy manacles on each wrist.

“Are those…?”

“Soul Inhibitors. They ward off evil spirits. Sazerac and Kagesa used ‘em all the time.”

“Who’s Kagesa?”

“Kagesa XX of the Clan Kuraimono, AKA Agavia XXVII, heiress of Pontalier, of House Rosángel. She was Sazerac's predecessor, belonged to the Kuraimono Clan, a powerful family of magic users who claimed to be descended from Rosángel, the founder of the noble house I was adopted into. Remember Dercori, the fish warrior who used those talismans back at the Tournament?”

“The one Roshi eliminated with that magic jar thing? Hell was it called again?”

(_Riazul grumbles_). “Evil Containment Wave. Anyway, Dercori’s one of her descendants.”

_(Okocim ponders briefly_). “There’s something else I don’t get. I don’t recall meeting Kagesa, but I did see Sazerac plenty of times. Guy wasn’t a fish person, or whatever Dercori’s race is called. If what you said is true, Dercori is Kagesa’s descendant, but Sazerac wasn’t, which means he must’ve been adopted into House Rosángel, like you were.”

“You don’t say?”

“Excuse me?”

“You forgot his title, didn’t you?”

“Uh… wait, wait, don’t tell me. It’s on the tip of my tongue…”

(_Sauza rolls his eyes_). “God of Destruction Sazerac XVIII, _heir_ of Agavia, of House Rosángel, born Lyman Peychaud. You’re right, though. Dercori and Kagesa are Chtapodians. Sazerac’s a Lynkatian[4].” (_Riazul looks to the open door_). “Damn cat was a smooth-talker, and an even better marksman. He was also unbelievably gifted in magic and martial arts. How else do you think he got into Kagesa’s good graces? Those Kuraimono bastards didn’t let just any jerk and their sister join their clan. They even threw out their own flesh and blood if they didn’t make the cut… that is, when they didn’t use ‘em for their damn experiments. Yet another thing ol’ Lyman excelled at.” (_Scowls_). “Fucking asshole. He and his stooges used to take in orphans, bastards, fugitives, down-and-out schmucks nobody else gave a rat’s ass about, promised ‘em food and a roof over their heads. The lucky ones “graduated” into spies, assassins, enforcers, servants, etc.” (_Sotto-voce, as Sauza clinks his manacles_). “(_¡Brazaletes de mierda! ¡¿En qué carajos estaría pensando ese pinche culero hombre verde hijo de su reputísimo padre!?_[5]).”

“Come again?”

“None of your business.”

The son of Lech barely recognized his former nemesis. Far as the Sphygian could see, the incisions covered the entirety of Riazul’s flesh, yet something else had changed as well…

“Would you quit looking at me like that? It’s making me nervous.”

“O-Oh, right. Sorry ‘bout that, Quitela. It’s just… your fur seems… well, different.”

“What’re you, stupid? Of course it’s different! These damn things reappeared after—”

“Wasn’t talking ‘bout those." (_Okocim squints_). "Maybe I’m just seeing things, but the color seems...”

“Seems what? Kinda off? That’s because it is. I’m a Naatsusian. My species changes fur color as they mature. Arrested development and all that.”

“Really? How old were you when you ascended?”

“I don’t remember. If I’d been human, I would’ve been ‘round thirteen or fourteen, I guess.”

(_Okocim eats some more, awkwardly looks away_). “Sauza… look, I—”

(_Sauza grins maliciously_). “What’s wrong? Didn’t take you for the shy type, Beerus.”

“I…”

(_Sauza squints_). “There’s something off about _you_, too. You’ve changed.”

“W-Well, y’see… I’m a Sphygian. Our species don’t have much fur. What little we do have, it comes in a series of patterns, starts showin’ ‘round the time we’re preteens. My fur turned purple when I was fo—when I first received Energy of Destruction. I’m mortal now, so… by the way, did Cognac ever tell you all the gory details? ‘Bout my childhood and all that crap (pardon my language)?”

(_Riazul blinks in confusion_). “He… he let a bit or two slip every now and then. Can’t say I pressed him for details.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not one to stick my snout where it doesn’t belong.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I know who you used to spy for back in the day.”

“I’d rather you didn’t bring that up.”

“I understand. We all got things we’d rather forget.” (_Notices something_). “You haven’t touched your food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten in hours.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You could use some nourishment.”

“What are you, my mother?” (_Okocim stares at him_). “Fine, fine…”

Riazul all but wolfed down a large chunk of broth, meat, and noodles. Big mistake. The fallen Destroyer from the Conspiracy Universe dropped the bowl, started to hack vehemently.

(_Riazul gesticulates violently_). “W-W-W…”

(_Alarmed Okocim is…_). “What is it, Sauza!? What’s wrong!?”

“W-W-W-W—”

“A-Are you choking!?”

“N-No! W-W-W-W—"

The Sphygian followed the mouse's fingers. They were pointing to a jug full of water sitting at a table not far from the bed. Okocim grabbed the jug. The rodent snatched it from his hands, drank the whole thing in a single gulp.

(_Shamefaced Okocim is…_). “The salt… I overdid it, didn’t I?”

“Ya think!?”

“I don’t understand. It was alright when I tried it. Then again, I can’t taste much of anything, so take what I just said with a pinch of salt.” (_Grins sheepishly_). “No pun intended.”

A wet, unamused Riazul looked down. His clothes and bedsheets were stained a murky brown. Noodles, pieces of meat and bone were strewn about.

(_Okocim facepalms_). “Gods damn it! I washed those sheets the other day!” (_Sauza rolls his eyes_). “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

Without further ado, Okocim stripped the bed in one fell swoop. Before the late Lord Quitela knew it, he found himself lying on the floor, the feline’s fingers mere centimeters from his visage.

“Sauza! Dear gods, I’m so fucking stupid! Lemme help y—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Next thing he knew, Riazul decked Okocim in the face. The former Destroyer fell on his back, stared back at the rodent in utter confusion. Something roared in Beerus, urged him to get angry, hit back…

The son of Lech was at a loss. Throughout his eons, he’d seen and heard plenty about God of Destruction Quitela IX, enough for him to loathe the rat without burdening his conscience. Much as he strained his mind, Okocim couldn’t recall any other instances when he saw him like this. Sure, there was the time the mouse threatened to commit omnicide just before he and his universe were erased during the Tournament, but back then he’d been desperate, furious, outraged.

This was something else entirely.

Sauza was trembling.

No.

Not just trembling.

_Crying_.

He was all but begging the feline to spare him, or to get whatever he intended to do over with quickly.

“Quitela… I-I’m sorry… I—”

“Go away…”

“B-But I—”

“Get out. _Now_.”

Okocim nodded. Sullied sheets in hand, rubbing his bruised right cheek, the feline walked away, stopped at the threshold. Much as he tried, the artist formerly known as Beerus couldn’t find anything to say. With a frown on his countenance, Okocim Lech-Sa quit the area, made his way to the laundry room.

“Okocim!”

(_A forlorn Okocim turns around_). “Hi, Anise.”

“I heard screams. Did something happen?”

“I… I was over at Quitela’s room. Made him lunch, but I fucked up big time (pardon my language), and he… he attacked me.”

“What!?”

(_Okocim smiles awkwardly_). “I-I’m ok, really. Didn’t even hit ‘im back; honest.”

(_Anise approaches the Sphygian_). “Okocim… did you try to touch Quitela?

“Huh?”

“Did you reach for his face?”

“Y-Yeah! H-How’d you know?”

“Something similar happened when we were training in the woods. Cumin knocked Quitela down by accident. When he reached for his face, Quitela flipped out, punched Cumin square in the beak. I was really angry at the time. Looking back, though, I think something must’ve happened to Quitela. Something… horrible.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “I… I made him remember, didn’t I? I’m… I’m such an idiot…”

“Okocim…”

(_Okocim starts crying_). “Stupid, worthless, unteachable…”

(_Anise grabs Okocim by the shoulders_). “Okocim… don’t. You didn’t do it on purpose, right?”

(_Okocim and Anise blush. She lets go_). “N-No, I didn’t. I… look, I still have to clean these up. We can keep talking in the laundry room, if that’s ok.”

Anise nodded. Once the felines reached the place, Okocim placed the dirty sheets and sundry items in a washing machine. The fallen Hakaishin and the Tien-Shin pupil sat down nearby, watched as the gadget did its thing.

“So… you were saying?”

“‘Bout me an’ Quitela… you already know me and him are literally billions of years old, how we used t’ be gods and all that jazz, right? Me an’ Sauza, we’ve hated each other since day one. Dunno why, to be honest. I ‘spose part of the reason is, I’m the last known living descendant of House Artois, an ancient Hakaishin noble house from Planet Sekhmet on Universe 11, where Champa and I were born. Quitela, he got adopted into House Rosángel from Universe 8, a house my family had been feuding with for thousands of years. Then again, that’s really not sayin’ much. If I had a zenni for every noble house that _wasn’t_ enemies with us, I wouldn’t have two nickels to rub together.”

“I see what you mean. I think there’s more to it than that, though. Remember yesterday, when you two fought each other? Whoever, whatever possessed Quitela, it sounded like a female.”

“Right. Bitch (pardon my language) called herself Zunia, or something. The douche (pardon my language) who possessed me seemed to be male, said his name was Zivek.”

“Way I see it, those two know each other.”

“What’re you getting at? You think there’s a connection between me, Quitela, and those spooks?”

(_Anise shrugs_). “Could be.” (_Frowns_). “Look, before you say anything else, I wanna apologize for yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Anise, you fought hard and bravely. You and the others saved my sorry ass (pardon my language) before Qui—Zunia fried it. There’s no need to—”

(_Anise blushes_). “Thanks for the praise, but that’s not what I meant. I was talking about what happened in the dining room, when I asked you that question… y’know, ‘bout sparing with me?”

“O-Oh, that…” (_Okocim grins awkwardly_). “It’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, _I_ should be apologizing to you guys, way I scared everybody.”

“I reminded you of something terrible, didn’t I?”

(_Okocim sweats nervously_). “W-Well… y’see, I…” (_Clears throat_). “Look, I meant what I said. I don’t blame you at all. It’s _my_ fault for being stupid, an idiot, an—”

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“You insult yourself whenever you’re talking with me or the others.”

“T-That’s bullshit (pardon my language), I—”

“That’s something else I’ve noticed. You apologize all the time, even when you didn’t do anything wrong.” (_Sighs_). “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get invasive. I try to fix things, and I end up making everything worse.”

“Anise… did someone hurt you?”

(_Anise shakes her head_). “It happened a long time ago. It’s nothing you should worry about.”

“How can you say that? Anise, y—”

“Finally!”

The startled felines looked to the entrance. A red-furred male wolf stood underneath the threshold, carrying a basketful of dirty laundry. The newcomer was dressed in a rather baggy pair of jeans, their removable brown and peach-colored legs held by zippers. His tattered cloak long gone, Basil the Kicker from the Trio of Danger sported a pair of digitigrade black boots, red and black fingerless gloves, and an unbuttoned brown vest, the latter bearing the sigil of Universe 9 to its right.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Am I interrupting something?”

(_Puzzled Anise is…_). “N-No, not really. Our stuff should be almost done, anyway.”

(_Okocim blinks in confusion_). “Y-Yeah, what she said.”

“I spent over an hour and a half trying to find this place. Still getting used to the Lookout and all that.”

(_Okocim blinks again_). “R-Right… Basil, is it? Been meanin’ to ask you, how’s Sidra doin’?”

(_Basil frowns_). “Didn’t Piccolo tell you? The Omni-King made him mortal, same thing he did to you, your brother, and that creep from Universe 4. However, Zen-Oh, he messed up somehow, and Sidra lost his memory. He doesn’t know who me and Lavender are, let alone who _he_ is.” (_Sighs_). “To make matters worse, the portal took him to the wrong destination. Sidra ended up in some place called Bogle Island. Luckily, he was found by an old man and his grandkids. They’ve taken a shine to him, and vice-versa. I don’t remember the last time Sidra looked so… happy.”

By then Basil had started to sort and dump items into a nearby washing machine. The red wolf sighed again as he measured the needed amount of detergent and fabric softener.

“No offense, but I just can’t get over how you guys have so much of this stuff just lying around. These things are real hard to come by back home. Same applies to… never mind.”

(_Confused Okocim is…_). “Y-Yeah… look, about Sidra’s appearance… did Zen-Oh…?”

“The Omni-King says he has no idea how or why it happened, Lord Beerus. Just between you and me, I think he’s hiding something.”

The warrior from U9 flipped a switch and stepped back. An awkward silence filled the room. Basil was utterly absorbed. He looked upon the neighboring washing machines as if they were absolutely alien to him. It took Okocim’s impromptu yawn to bring the canine back to reality.

(_Basil chuckles_). “O-Oh, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t realize how weird I must’ve looked.”

(_Anise steps forward_). “What do you think? You like our Earth?”

(_Basil smiles_). “It's been ages since the last time I saw so much green, so much life in just one planet. Don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you guys should be grateful you were born here, and not in…” (_Frowns_). “Please don’t tell Sidra I said that: the poor guy hates himself enough as it is.”

“[_Hates himself?_]. Wasn’t there a third guy in your group? Think his name was Balsamroot…”

(_Basil chuckles_). “Bergamo. He stayed behind in Universe 9, Lord Beerus. Last I heard, he was helping Roh solve a crisis back home. He—”

“I finally found you.”

Okocim, Anise, and Basil turned to the entrance: Poison Blow Lavender, the second member of the Trio of Danger, had made the scene. The young coyote had discarded his old trousers and suspenders in favor of a newer pair of cargo pants, finishing with a green and black vest with a built-in hood and a pair of leathery bands around his arms and ankles. Ignoring Basil’s invitation, Lavender lingered near the entrance, suspiciously glowered at the two felines.

“’Bout time I caught up with you, little brother. This damn place… you get lost here, it’ll take centuries to find you… if you live that long.”

(_Lavender groans slightly_). “Sorry ‘bout that, Lav. Got sidetracked looking for the laundry room. Dirty clothes keep piling up; next thing you know we w—”

“Yeah, yeah… seems you’re busy doin’ something else now, though. What’s it called? Oh yeah: fraternizing with the enemy.”

(_Basil touches his forehead like he’s in pain_). “Lavender, please…”

(_Lavender gives Okocim the stink eye_). “I haven’t forgotten about you. You still owe us for what you and your people did to us.”

(_Sad Basil is…_). “Give it a rest, Lavender. That’s all in the past. We can’t fight the enemy _and_ each other. You know that.”

“The enemy’s standing in front of you, little brother. Don’t you forget it.”

“You’re starting to sound like Bergamo.”

“Whatever. Nappa asked me to find you three: we’re due back at the Training Hall.” (_Points at Okocim_). “We've got a long way to go if _he_ and the rest’re gonna be of any use.”

“What about our laundry?”

“Don’t sweat it. That Popo guy said he’d take care of it.” (_Glares at Okocim_). “Don’t keep us waiting.” (_Leaves_).

“Lavender…” (_Shakes his head, frowns_). “Lord Beerus, Miss Lozada, I… I’m so unbelievably sorry. Lavender, he… he’s been like this since the Tournament. Same as…” (_Sighs_).

(_Okocim frowns_). “It’s ok, man. I don’t blame him. At all.” 

(_Anise n__otices something_). “You feeling alright? You look like you’re in pain.”

(_Basil scratches his head_). “I’ve been having these weird headaches lately. They started not long after U9 was restored.”

“I think you should tell Bulma. Her doctors could take a look, make sure everything’s working right.”

“Maybe later, after we solve this crisis…”

(_Okocim h__eads to the door_). “We should get going.” (_Smiles kindly_). “And Basil? Call me Okocim. I’m not a Destroyer anymore: you don’t have to address me as such.”

(_Anise s__miles_). "And you can call me Anise. We're friends here, after all."

A nodding Basil returned the smile. Having quit the laundry room, the group returned to the Training Hall, where the Saiyans and the others awaited. 21, Shu, Cumin, and Fennel appeared to be in deep meditation. Regardless, all four seemed to be in a particularly foul mood, if their ki was anything to go by.

Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz played a game of roshambo, presumably to settle some petty argument or another as a spiteful Lavender watched. Goku was busy stretching even as he urged a flustered Sidra to take a brief break. Much against his will, the former God of Destruction complied.

Okocim thought his eyes were deceiving him. Instead of the short-tempered, vertically-challenged, pot-bellied Heranian he and his fellow Destroyers used to mock without fear of consequence, there stood a somewhat taller, muscle-gutted ape-like fellow, his body covered in black and red cosmos-colored fur everywhere the Sphygian could see, save for the palms of the hands and most of his countenance.

Consonant with his transformation, Sidra’s <strike>dirty</strike> <strike>shaggy</strike> <strike>ugly</strike> <strike>hideous</strike> <strike>out of style</strike> distinctive beard had vanished without a trace. Only three smaller, better groomed furry patches remained at the left and right cheeks and at the center of the chin. The <strike>gaping</strike> <strike>disgusting</strike> <strike>sickening</strike> idiosyncratic bald spot was absent as well, covered as it was by a full head of spiky hair resembling a leonine mane, far easier on the eyes than that <strike>atrocious</strike> <strike>repulsive</strike> <strike>laughable</strike> unkempt bush which formerly hung behind his shoulders, reaching all the way to the knees like some flea-bitten cloak.

The former Hakaishin also had a prehensile monkey tail, which twitched back and forth as a sign of alert, its tip crowned by a small tuft of black fur not unlike that of a lion. Far as the son of Lech could tell, the transformation had also loosened Sidra’s spine, as the fallen warrior now stood with a slight hunch. Had his arms been slightly longer, he’d likely have to walk like a gorilla, his knuckles pressing down against the ground as he got from Point A to B.

Sidra’s mouth had shed its lips. The <strike>unsightly</strike> <strike>disproportionate</strike> <strike>mismatched</strike> hooked nose long gone, its pug-like replacement reminded Okocim of that ape thing Saiyans used to turn into when they looked at the full moon, albeit cross-bred with a wild boar or some other kind of pig. Speaking of which, Sidra now sported a set of medium-sized sharp tusks, all four of which protruded out of his mouth from the areas once occupied by his upper and lower canine teeth.

His Hakaishin outfit nowhere in sight, the late Lord Sidra now wore a smaller version of Nappa’s weighted gold and blue training _gi_, armbands and boots included. The artist formerly known as Beerus didn’t know what to make of this. The discomfited, surly man-beast in front of him didn’t resemble the disgraced Destroyer from the <strike>Shithole</strike> Improvised Universe… yet he was. Sidra’s ki had changed little: mortality and metamorphosis notwithstanding, the creature before the cat man’s eyes was the last known living descendant of the ill-fated House Blackthorn from Universe 7.

“[_Should I say something to him? 'Hi Sidra, how you doin’? Couldn’t help but notice you’ve grown a tad hairier since the Tournament. No hard feelings, right? Oh, I forgot, you lost your memory. Let’s not split hairs over this, ok? No pun intended’_].”

The late Lord Beerus cautiously approached, spoke in a calm tone.

“Hi, Sid—.”

The spooked ex-deity screamed, stumbled, fell flat on his face. Okocim scrambled to get the man-ape back on his feet.

“I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-I’m…!”

“SHUT UP ALREADY!”

The rest of the group abruptly quit whatever they’d been doing. Even Vegeta and Fennel listened in utter disbelief. An anxious Okocim sweated, unable to take his eyes off Sidra’s bristling fur, his tusks glimmering underneath the lights of the Training Hall. The feline’s ears twitched: was that a growl he’d just heard?

“Damn cat! [snort]. You trying to scare me to death?!”

“I-I just wanted t-to…” (_Sidra glowers_). “Never mind.”

Sidra grunted not unlike swine. Goku’s hand reached for his, yet the fallen Hakaishin ignored the Saiyan, snorting all the way as he got back up on his own.

“H-Hey, take it easy, Lord Sidra. It was just an accident.”

(_Sidra grunts_). “Forgive me if I don’t quite believe that. And for the last time, quit calling me “Lord." I’m not royalty. Also, why does everybody keep calling me Sidra? Is that my name?”

“Yeah, it is. You, uh, kinda lost your memory, Lo—I-I mean, Sidra.”

“‘Kinda’? I lost all of it.”

(_Goku shrugs awkwardly_). “I know. It’s just an expression.”

(_Okocim notices something amiss_). “Uh, Goku, where’s Champa? I thought you said Vegeta would bring him.”

“Hi, Lord Beerus. Piccolo said he, Popo and Dende were gonna perform the ritual on him and Quitela. Y'know the one, right?” (_Notices something_). “What’s wrong? You feelin’ alright, Lord Beerus?”

(_Okocim scowls_). “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me “Okocim” or “Beerus.” You don’t have to call me “Lord” anymore.”

“If you say so…”

(_Raditz approaches Goku_). “Something’s come up, Kakarrot. Let’s go outside. There’re some things we need to discuss in private.”

“Coming, Raditz.” (_To Okocim and company_). “Be right back.”

Goku and the other Saiyans took their leave. Anise and Basil wandered around the hall. Okocim seized an opportunity.

“Sidra… look, I wanna apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

(_Sidra snorts, sighs_). “Don’t dwell on it. It’s not _your_ fault my heart’s always pounding like a jackhammer.”

“Right. So… what do you think of Universe 7?”

(_Sidra turns pensive_). “It feels… familiar. My head hurts a lot lately. It’s like somebody bludgeoned my mind into pieces, made off with most of them, bent others all out of shape, then left them behind like a trail of crumbs for me to follow.”

“I see. Look, I don’t wanna pry or anything, but…”

(_Sidra grunts again_). “I hate it when people creep around with words. If you want to ask a question, do it. All that simpering and shuffling makes me nervous.”

(_Okocim blinks in stupefaction_). “Alright, then. Basil says you ended up in a place called… oh… Bungle Island?”

(_Annoyed Sidra is…_). “_Bogle_ Island. What of it?”

“He also said you met this family…”

“The Figueroas. You got business with them?”

“N-No, I-I-I was just curious. What’re they like?”

(_Sidra smiles fondly_). “They’re good people. They pulled me out of the sea, took me in, gave me food. They even stood by me when I started to turn into… whatever the hell I am now.” (_Frowns_). “I thought they’d throw me out. I... I was afraid of that for a while. Anything else?”

“Any idea why you look like that?”

(_Sidra looks at his clawed hands_). “I haven’t the foggiest. It began during the first days with the Figueroas. Eddoes was really scared.”

“Eddoes?”

(_Smiles_). “He’s Tani and Marcus’ grandfather. I’ll introduce you one day.”

Sidra noticed Lavender staring daggers at him. The tone of the fallen warrior turned bitter, downright hostile as he crossed his arms against his chest. The young coyote growled, his bristling fur resplendent beneath the lights of the hall.

“What do you want, cub? Didn’t I break enough of your bones already?”

“You got lucky, old fool. Step right up. Got a nice Poison Blow waitin’ for ya.”

“Pathetic. You couldn’t win a fair fight if your life depended on it.”

“Don’t lecture me about fairness! You couldn’t even take out that Frieza creep when you were a Destroyer! You know what that damn lizard did with your energy? He bounced and played with it like it was Basil’s old ball! A fucking ball! You’re so full of shit, you can’t even cheat right, you gods-damn fuckhead!”

Okocim trembled. The Sphygian was no longer at the Lookout, but at Sekhmet during noontime, if the smothering heat was any indication. By then Sidra had transformed into an all too familiar shade. Judging by the taut musculature and ever-present air of resentfulness bordering on hatred, that figure could only be…

“Father…”

Lavender was gone as well: in his place stood none other than Beerus the Destroyer. The Hakaishin looked as bitter as his sire, who crossed his arms against his chest, then turned to the fallen deity.

“You’re beyond pathetic, boy! All that power, and you’re still a gods-damned coward, hiding and whimpering like the fuck-up you’ve always been!”

(_Beerus glowers_). “Sadly, I must agree. Whatever possessed you guys to bind me to this douchebag in the first place?”

“Even gods make mistakes.”

“I…”

“Okocim?”

The cat man came back to reality, beckoned by Anise’s voice. The warriors from Universe 9 were still at it.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah; what makes you think I’m not?”

“You zoned out when Lavender started to insult Sidra.” (_Hisses scornfully, murmurs to herself in a Colima-Coahuila hybrid Mexican accent_). “_Pinche perro sarnoso. ¡Tan buen padre que tienes y mira cómo lo maltratas! Ganas no me faltan de caerte encima a putazos_[6].”

(_Lavender’s ear twitches, speaks with a slight gringo accent_). “_No metas el hocico en lo que no te importa, gatita linda. Ni creas que me voy a tragar tus pendejadas porque seas hembra_[7].”

Though initially frightened, Anise hissed again as she unsheathed her claws and struck a fighting stance. A livid Okocim blocked her way.

“Don’t even think about it, creep. Touch her, and it’ll the last thing you ever do.”

(_Lavender smirks derisively_). “Like hell it will be! So-called god… you don’t impress me for a minute.”

(_Anise moves from behind Okocim_). “Don’t worry about me, Cim. I can take care of myself.”

“Anise, please. I don’t want you to—”

(_Sidra grunts contemptuously_). “Leave them out of this, pup. My patience has limits. You should know that by now.”

Basil, 21, Fennel, and Cumin reached the area. The red wolf was rubbing his temples, as if trying to assuage some sort of ache.

“Lavender, stop! What you’re doing is—”

“Stay out of this, Basil!” (_Growls_). “I don’t take orders from you, Sidra; not anymore. Me, Basil, Bergamo, all of us, we foolishly, stupidly did that, and it got us erased. Fucking erased.”

(_Pissed 21 is…_). “Lavender, enough! Y—.”

(_Sidra gestures at 21 to keep quiet_). “Erased, huh? You're going to wish you’d stayed that way if you keep speaking to me like that.”

“Just try it, fuck-up!”

Okocim’s world grew blurry yet again. However, this time he didn’t see Tusker or his former self. He wasn’t even on Sekhmet, but within the ruins of the old Castle Marnier at Planet Dawon of Universe 2. The seated figure before him could be no other than…

“M-Mother?”

The late Lady Afsnath wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by veritable legions of half-naked males of various species, ages, sizes, builds, and colors. They brandished khopeshes, mambeles, shotels[8], and several other blades, eagerly awaiting the Destroyer’s orders to tear apart yet another interloper.

The previous Hakaishin of Universe 6 cradled an infant Lanson, who began to hyperventilate and wail after laying eyes on his twin. Unlike Tusker, Afsnath had nothing to say to Okocim, busy as she was calming the boy, only taking her eyes off him to glower at the artist formerly known as Beerus.

“Pathetic. You haven’t changed at all.”

Okocim searched everywhere. That female voice wasn’t Afsnath’s, even if it sounded just as embittered. The Sphygian trembled: it couldn’t possibly be…

“Asahi…”

“[Snort]. For the last time, watch your bloody language. There’s a lady present.”

Sidra’s increasingly enraged tone brought Okocim back to the real world. The coyote and the ex-Destroyer still bickered, yet the Sphygian thought his eyes had turned against him. One moment he saw Lavender and Sidra; the other, Tusker, Afsnath, Champa, and his former self joined the scene. _She_, however, remained absent.

????: “Pitiful fool. You’re not even worth killing.”

Okocim: “A-Asahi… I-I’m…”

Sidra: “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s exactly what you are.”

Lavender: “Like I give a shit. I ain’t scared of you anymore. You’re a liar and a fraud.” (_Ponders briefly_). “I take it back. You aren’t a liar, or a fraud: you’re a fucking failure. That’s _exactly_ what you are.”

Tusker: “Truer words have never been spoken.”

Afsnath: “I shouldn’t have suffered you to sully my womb. You disgust me, scum of Artois!”

Tusker: “Don’t pin this one on us, Brulle! Damn fuck-up’s got _your_ stink all over him. What else can you expect from that lousy house of yours?”

Afsnath: “How dare you!? Cursed be the day I first laid eyes on you, Lech Blanton-Sa! May the plague rid you and your offspring!”

Tusker: “They’re _your_ offspring too. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I only have one daughter.” (_Points at Okocim and baby Lanson_). “_They_ don’t count; never have, never will.”

????: “Are you happy now, you lazy little shit? I wasted a perfectly good day babysitting you, when I could’ve been training, destroying, being useful! You’re no brother of mine.”

“Asahi…”

His ears deaf to Anise’s words, Okocim sank his nails into the palms of his hands. Copious blood fell to the floor below as Sidra made to rush Lavender.

“Why, you disrespectful sack of arse! I—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Okocim moved between Sidra and Lavender. His teary eyes burning, the Sphygian stood tall and straight, his red-stained claws unsheathed for all to see.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, Lavender?! Sidra’s your father!”

(_Lavender licks his fangs_). “Mind your own fucking business… unless you want me to skin that lady over yonder.”

(_Okocim hisses_). “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!”

(_Sidra grunts, cracks his neck and fists_). “Step aside, cat. This mutt’s spoiling for a fight, and I fancy a pair of wolf-skin boots.”

(_Okocim sweats ice_). “Sidra, listen to yourself! Lavender’s your son! You raised him!”

(_Sidra shakes his head_). “I don't think so. No way I could’ve raised such a disrespectful punk. No child of mine would make it to ten if they spoke to me like that.”

Okocim trembled. This wasn’t Sidra XV, son of Bantam, of the once Great and Eminent House of Blackthorn! The Sidra he knew went out of his way to not hurt anyone. Poor guy even fell into bouts of depression whenever he’d Hakai anything at all. Hell, if what he’d seen at the Tournament of Power was any indication, the Supreme Kai of Universe 9 acted more like a Destroyer than the fallen Hakaishin. The Sphygian thought fast.

“Sidra…” (_Sighs_). “Look, I get it, ok? We got you guys erased. You’re still mad about that, and I don’t blame you." (_Frowns_). "Lavender… you have every right to be angry, but no right to take it out on Sidra. The Tournament wasn’t _his_ fault: it was mine.”

“What part of “mind your own fucking business” don’t you understand?”

(_Stern Okocim is..._). “Your quarrel’s with me, not Sidra, _definitely_ not with Anise. You wanna beat up someone? Here I am; ready and willing.”

Anise’s heart skipped a couple of beats. Regardless, she stood her ground at the cat man’s side.

“Okocim, don’t! You don’t have to do this!”

“Anise… get out of here.”

“No way! I’m not gonna stand by and let you get hurt again!”

(_Sidra snorts, moves past Anise and Okocim_). “The lass is right. I’m not about to let somebody else fight my battles for me.”

(_Lavender chuckles_). “For once I agree.”

A spiteful Lavender removed his vest, tossed it behind his back. The floor underneath cracked where it fell; the bare-chested coyote struck a fighting pose. An unperturbed Okocim followed suit with his shirt and boots, taking care not to cause further damage to the Training Hall.

(_Anise steps forward_). “Don’t do this, Okocim.”

“It’s ok, Anise. You might wanna get out of the way, though.” 

(_Anise strikes a fighting pose_). “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about protecting me.”

“Same here.” (_Okocim strikes a fighting stance_). “Put up or shut up, mutt.”

(_Lavender laughs out loud_). “Bring it on!”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

The group turned to the entrance. An incensed Son Goku and his fellow Saiyans had powered up to Super Saiyan Blue.

“You wanna fight, Lavender? Pick on somebody your own size!”

Rather than back away, the coyote began to laugh raucously. Before anyone even saw it, Lavender produced a strange-looking knife, made to rush Sidra with it.

“SIDRA, BEHIND YOU!”

Basil grabbed his sibling. The coyote cursed him, vainly tried to shake the red wolf off. Before anyone else could react, the desperate Lavender broke his right hand free and, blade in hand, slashed his sibling across the chest. If Basil hadn’t dodged when he did, the cut would’ve severed his throat and everything in between. The young warrior collapsed on his knees, his blood staining the floor below as his screams echoed throughout the Training Hall.

“BASIL!”

His very frame seized by fury, Sidra tackled Lavender to the ground, causing him to drop the knife, then proceeded to beat him up. The last heir of Blackthorn was blind, deaf, and mute to all other stimuli while Goku and Vegeta apprehended the coyote and secured the would-be murder weapon, Nappa and Raditz vainly tried to separate Sidra from the heavily injured canine, and 21, Okocim, and the Tien-Shin Trio saw to Basil, who staggered to his feet.

(_Horrified Basil is…_). “IT'S NOT HIM! THE REAL LAVENDER IS LEFT-HANDED!”

Basil spoke truth. The assailant had held the blade with his right hand before Sidra pounced on him. It didn’t take King Kai to know this was no ordinary arm: "Lavender" wielded a _Kris_[9] dagger. The knife shone an intense amber glow, almost as if it were a slice of sun.

Just then, a series of palpitations resounded throughout the canine's brain and heart. Howling like a fiend, the coyote exuded an energy wave that pushed everybody else away, then began to transform. What little remained of his fur shifted from gold to a sickly shade of purple. Most of it had fallen off or otherwise receded into the body by the time the young warrior's flesh acquired a gangrenous shade of green, which was almost completely covered by a veritable ocean of oozing black sores. When it was finally over, the malicious, leering creature standing before the Z-Fighters resembled a walking corpse stuck somewhere in-between a leprosy-ridden lizard and a mange-tainted dog.

(_Aghast Raditz is…_). “What on Earth is that!?”

(_Horrified Vegeta is…_). “His energy! It changed!”

(_21 strikes a fighting pose_). "Stay sharp, guys!"

(_Cumin does the same_). "You ready, Fenn?"

(_Ditto_). "<I'm always ready>." 

“Lavender” cackled loudly. The floor beneath sizzled as droplets of acidic saliva fell from his maw. An irate Sidra aimed a strong ki blast at the imposter’s face. It took all of the Heranian's willpower not to flinch at the sight of those glowing, goatish-slash-barracuda-like lavender-pink sunken eyes set within a skull covered by thin layers of flesh, its mouth incapable of closing all the way, gums bleeding all over, skewered by a thousand legions of overgrown serrated teeth.

(_Pissed Sidra is…_). “Who are you!? What have you done to Lavender!?”

(_“Lavender” laughs again_). “Not a thing, unfortunately. I was merely programmed to mimic him. I sure fooled your ki senses, didn’t I? I am Displacer Agent 0304, codename Kaisen[10]. I have my orders, and I intend to carry them out.”

Without further ado, the creature created another devastating ki explosion, knocked everyone aside. His claws shining underneath the lights, the roaring monster jumped toward a stunned Goku, his jaws aiming for the neck.

"SPECIAL BEAM CANNON!"

Twin energy drills tore through Kaisen's chest in the nick of time, landed him flat and immobile on his back. Okocim and the others turned to the entrance: an agitated Piccolo made the scene, followed by Champa, Quitela, Dende, and Popo. The Namekian and the Naatsusian’s index and middle fingers were still smoking by the time Goku and the other Saiyans jumped back up.

“Is everyone alright!?”

(_Goku wipes dust off himself_). “We’ll live. Help the others out.”

Piccolo nodded. Though rattled, Okocim and the rest were mostly uninjured. Snorting furiously, Sidra swiftly and loudly stomped on Kaisen’s neck. The shattering sound made everyone sick to their stomach. His back turned to his handiwork, the distraught ex-deity sweated in fear.

“Lavender… where is Lavender?”

Okocim’s ear twitched. Roughness notwithstanding, the fear and worry in his counterpart’s voice was unmistakable. Now this was the Sidra he knew and—

In the blink of an eye, Kaisen jerked back to his feet. His neck appeared to have healed itself, same as the hitherto gaping hole in his chest. His right claw transformed into a sickle-like blade, the Displacer Agent lunged toward Sidra’s back.

“LOOK OUT!”

Okocim violently shoved his counterpart at just the right time. The tip of the blade tore through the feline's lower abdomen, all the way to the back.

“OKOCIM!”

Anise’s screams relapsed into a blur. Okocim’s eyes were fixed on Kaisen's grinning visage, the latter's arm wet from his own blood, same as the floor underneath. The Sphygian's world grew foggy at the same time a hollering Anise severed the Displacer Agent's arm from the elbow down with a well-placed karate chop. For his part, Goku sent the assailant flying against the wall with a single punch to the face.

“[_So it’s finally over. Not a bad way to go, all things considered… Asahi… if only I…_].

The yawning dark swallowed Okocim Lech-Sa. The last thing the cat man saw was Son Goku and Anise Lozada rushing to his side, their voices lost in increasingly muddled noise by the time he finally went under…

_Later…_

“It's been two days already. Why hasn’t he woken up?”

“The medics placed him in suspended animation. It was the only way to stall the poison till it could be neutralized. They’ve expedited the process as much as possible.” (_Sighs_). "Okocim... what a time to grow a conscience." 

“Was he like this back then?”

“You mean when he was a Destroyer? Truth be told, he was quite unpleasant, even difficult to rein in, at times. Please don’t think ill of him, Anise. It wasn’t his fault; at least not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you already know, Okocim and Lanson are descendants of Artois and Marnier. Blood relatives of those noble houses are extremely sensitive to God ki and Energy of Destruction, so much, in fact… such a shame. Like most of their forebears, poor Okocim and Lanson were unlucky on that regard. Now—”

Okocim woke with a start. The feline was wheezing and hacking vehemently by the time he sat up. A relieved Anise sat to his right. The overjoyed cat woman had to be restrained for the patient’s sake. The one doing the restraining was no other than…

“W-Whis?”

(_Whis smiles warmly_). “Hello, Okocim.”

“WHIS!”

The weeping Sphygian literally threw himself into the Angel’s embrace. There were so many things Okocim wanted to say, yet his tongue failed him.

“Whis… I… I…”

“I missed you too, Okocim. Try not to move around too much. You’re not out of danger just yet.”

“D-Danger?” (_Scratches his head_). “Last thing I remember, Lavender was yelling at Sidra. The others…” (_Gasps_). “What about the others!? Champa and Quitela!? Fennel, Cumin, 21, Goku, Piccolo, Nappa, Vegeta, Raditz!? Wha—”

(_Anise gently squeezes the patient’s hand_). “Calm down, Okocim. We’re all ok. We’ve been so worried about you.”

Just then, a knock was heard from outside. Basil and Sidra let themselves in. The pair looked positively wretched: from the looks of it, the wolf and the former Hakaishin hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The canine seemed to be in pain, as he winced whenever he tried to touch the area where Kaisen slashed him.

“You’re awake! Thank goodness!” (_Sidra offers a handshake. Okocim takes it_).

“[_Wow… and I thought Piccolo had strong hands_].”

“I owe you my life. If you hadn’t done what you did, I would likely be dead now. (_Sidra frowns_). I… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

(_Okocim smiles_). “Hey, don’t lose sleep over it, man. You would’ve done the same, right?”

(_Whis turns to the others_). “He needs to rest, and so do the rest of you. Head to the banquet hall: there should be some hors d’oeuvres left, assuming the Saiyans haven’t gotten to them. I’ll stay with Okocim the meantime.”

The group exchanged further pleasantries and went on its way. The Sphygian resisted the urge to lie back down.

“Whis… what the hell’s going on? Why did Zen-Oh make me, Champa, Sidra, and Quitela mortal? What exactly is he trying to do? Didn’t think he had it in him to pull such a convoluted prank.”

(_Whis sighs_). “It’s no prank, Okocim. Believe me, I wish it were. Did you read Shin’s letter?”

“He said something about ancient enemies that woke up or somethin’, that I’d learn more when the Omni-King ok’d it. That’s about it.”

“Good; here’s the short version: a mysterious group of gods who were banished eons ago to another dimension called the Void Realm are preparing to conquer the Multiverse as we speak. The Omni-King and the Grand Priest haven’t exactly been forthcoming with details, so the other Angels and I are as much in the dark as you, Goku, and his friends. Along with the Lost Universes (or should I say, the _formerly_ Lost Universes), the Void Realm has already captured Universes 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12. Champa, Quitela, Sidra, yourself, and a fifth candidate are the only Destroyers (or rather, _ex_-Destroyers) who are present and accounted for. At first we believed Iwan and Liquiir had escaped along with Korn and Awamo, but the Void Realm kidnapped and substituted them with four Displacer Agents. A fifth, sixth, and seventh Agent did the same with Supreme Kai Roh of Universe 9, as well as Bergamo and Lavender Mead.”

“That Kaisen creature…”

“Precisely. The other four Agents tried to assassinate the Omni-King and Grand Priest, but they were stopped thanks to the combined efforts of—."

“Let me guess: Father. He’s here, isn’t he?”

Whis sadly nodded.

“There's someone else: your successor. As to why the King of All did what he did to you and the other three, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him yourself. Father and he have forbidden us from discussing that with anyone other than them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Truth be told, I’m tired of all this secrecy. There’s nothing we can do about it, however. We’ll learn more when Grand Zen-Oh allows it.”

“[_Story of my life…_]. I see…” (_Okocim yawns out loud, smiles_). “Whis… thank you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

(_Whis smiles_). “You’re welcome, Okocim. I hope you’re hungry.”

The former teacher and student spent the next half hour dining and talking. Sometime after Whis poured him a cup of green tea, the Attendant noticed something wasn’t quite right. Staring at the palms of his hands, the former Lord Beerus began to tremble as a frown etched itself on his countenance.

“Okocim… are you feeling alright?”

“Whis… I… I’m sorry… for everything.” (_Okocim gets teary-eyed_). “I was a terrible student. I was a lousy Destroyer. I took you for granted. I was lazy, careless, stupid, selfish. I was so vile to you, to Vados, Lanson, Goku, Bulma, Vegeta, everybody. Universe 7 is a mess because of me. Zamasu, the Tournament of Power, it’s all my fault. Father was right: it should've been me… not… her… not As—.”

Whis nearly froze. For all he knew, the Attendant was back in Sekhmet, at Castle Artois. Young Okocim stood before him as he had countless times before: beaten, broken, weeping.

_It’s alright, little one._

The Angel would heal the cub, only for the cycle to start all over again the next day. The next. The next. Next. Next. Next…

_It’ll be alright_.

(_Whis frowns_). “Okocim…” (_Embraces him, starts crying_). “Don’t say such things. It breaks my heart to hear you speak like that.”

“I-I’m n-n-nothing m-more than a-a-a-a f-f-fuck-up… I-I s-s-shouldn’t… shouldn’t h-have... b-been... b-b-born…”

“Don’t say that… little one… it’s alright… it’ll be alright…”

“A-A-Asahi… a-a-all I-I-I e-e-ever d-do.... i-i-is h-h-hurt... p-p-people… m-make e-e-everyone... m-m-miserable… I… I am… I am... a mistake… stupid… worthless… unteachable...”

“No; that’s not true at all. Your father is wrong. You _will_ prove him wrong, and I’ll help you every step of the way. That’s a promise.”

“Whis… I… I…”

Okocim couldn’t finish his sentence. A wave of torpor suddenly overtook him, and he fell asleep in Whis’ arms. The Angel gently laid his former charge back down, covered him with a blanket, then left shortly after wiping his tears away.

Whis stared back from the threshold of the room. Okocim Lech-Sa, formerly Beerus the Destroyer, was sleeping peacefully.

“[_He needs all the strength he can get. The real struggle begins tomorrow_]. Welcome back… little one.”

With that, the Attendant quit the room, closed the door behind him…

* * *

[1] Tonkotsu ramen (豚骨ラーメン / pork bone ramen), a dish from Fukuoka, Japan, consisting of Chinese wheat noodles served on a pork-based broth containing pork belly, bones, and other ingredients (Source: Wikipedia).

[2] Chirirenge (chee-ree-ren-geh) / 散蓮華 / ちりれんげ = “Spoonflower.” Japanese / Chinese soupspoons used for eating ramen (Sources: Apex S.K., Wiktionary, Google Translate).

[3] “Fucking little blue boy, son of his trashy-ass mother! I’m willin’ to bet he did this on purpose just to fuck around (with me). Just wait till I get better. I’m gonna kick his ass so hard, he’s gonna remember me (for) eternity, swear to God.”

[4] Chtapodian (“eck-tah-podh-ee-ahn”). From the Greek χταπόδι / chtapódi = octopus.

Lynkatian (“lee-ehn-kah-tee-ahn”). From the Greek λύγκας / lýnkas = lynx.

[5] “Shitty-ass handcuffs! The fuck was that fucking asshole green man son of his utmost whore father thinking!?” 

[6] “Fucking mangy dog. You have such a good father, and look how you mistreat him! I’ve half a mind to beat the crap out of you.”

[7] “Don’t stick your snout where it doesn’t belong, pretty kitty. Don’t think I’ll put up with your bullshit just ‘coz you’re female.”

[8] Khopesh: Ancient Egyptian sickle-sword.

Mambele: Hybrid throwing axe/knife from southern and central Africa.

Shotel: Ethiopian sickle-shaped curved sword (Source: Wikipedia).

[9] Kris / Keris = Asymmetrical dagger from Indonesia, notable for its blade’s wave-like design (Source: Wikipedia).

[10] From the Japanese 疥癬 = scabies, mange, itch (Source: Google Translate). Possible V.A.'s: Steve Blum (Orochimaru, _Naruto_), Matthew "Matt" G. Frewer (Jackal, _Gargoyles_), Todd M. Haberkorn (Metodey, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_), Mike Drew (Mirloc, _Power Rangers S.P.D._). 


	8. Betrayal at the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to worse for Geene, Arak, and the other vanquished Destroyers...

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One:** Beerus**

Chapter 8: Betrayal at the Void

_The Void Realm…_

“[_This way, mine Lords. Make ye haste_].”

Masala ushered the vanquished Destroyers into a room deeper within the library. Once all of them crossed the threshold, the slug man shut his eyes, joined his hands as if in prayer. The gigantic door rumbled, creaked as it moved on its own. Barely a minute later, it was completely shut.

Zumot al-Massaya surveyed his surroundings. The group occupied a rather spacious hall, a conference room of sorts, if a nearby rectangular table and corresponding seats were anything to go by. Like the rest of the citadel, this area had also seen better days. Dust and debris lay strewn all across the floor, its crystalline blue tiles cracked by something other than age. The table itself was broken in several places, same as the chairs, most of which weren’t good for anything other than firewood.

“What is this place?”

“[_There are still many areas to be explored within this palace. Lord Mate and I happened upon this site during our joint expedition. None but he and I know of it. We thought it best for all of us to sequester ourselves herein_].”

“[‘_All of us?’_].”

“‘Tis us he speaketh of, Lord Geene.”

Salmer and the rest turned around. Mate and Beinwell approached, followed by a sizable group of soldiers from various species. The Kualuan struck a fighting pose, only to collapse on his knees, overcome by a spell of dizziness. When he next opened his eyes, the fallen Destroyer from the Ultimate Universe saw the Grand Numen’s hand extended towards him. Much against his will, the fish man took it.

“[_This doesn’t change anything, lizard…_].”

(_Beinwell steps forward_). “Beware lest thou o’erstep thy boundaries, sirrah. The Grand Numen and I suffered thine impudence when thou wert a god. We shan’t be as magnanimous now, Oyzo Roku.”

“[_Mind your own business, you bald-headed fuck! Don’t ever call me that again, if you know what’s good for you!_].”

(_Mate sighs_). “Respect, both of you.” (_To Beinwell_). “Remember mine admonitions.”

Having taken one last look at the fish man, the scoffing Archangel and the Kualuan parted ways. Zumot took a look at the veritable crowds standing behind the dragon god.

“Who are these people?”

“They were banished herein with us. These hundred are all survivors of the All-Sovereign’s final war against the Sakujoshin. There are several others scattered otherwhere in the Void.” (_Mate frowns_). “These men-at-arms have long languished, punish’d for sins other than their own.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.”

“I beg thy pardon?”

“With all due respect, Grand Numen, we have no reason to believe you, let alone trust you.”

A livid Salmer caught a glimpse at about a stone throw’s away from the area. The Kualuan sank his fingernails into the palms of his hands, returned to where Mate and Zumot parlayed. Geene scowled. Everything in him roared bloody murder. His reddened claws howled for another chance. Powerless or otherwise, they’d tear Mate’s smug face and tweedy little neck to shreds, a nice prelude to turning the soon-to-be former Lord Caron into a snazzy snakeskin jacket, with boots to match.

“[_Lose something, lizard?_].”

“I mean no harm, Lord Geene. I merely spake to Lord Arak regarding—.”

“[_Save it. Take your damn excuses and blow them out your ass_].”

The furious dragon deity roared just when Arak was about to facepalm. The cowering soldiers fell to their knees and bowed before Mate, who switched to Japanese, all but snapped at them to get back up and prepare for battle. Masala and Lahpeth made the scene not long afterward. Aided by his walking staff, the slug man calmly approached the Grand Numen and addressed him in the same language.

“[{_Makoto-kun, please. Turn back thine anger. There is naught to be gained grudging puerile grievances_}].”

(_Mate snorts_). “[{_Apologies, Nochirasu-senpai. I seem to have lost mine temper. Lord Geene here aided mine finding it_}].

Geene and Arak were not amused. Though rattled, the fallen Destroyers stood their ground.

(_Awed Lahpeth is…_). “To hear the roar of the Grand Numen and remain standing… no lesser deities, let alone mortals, have e’er accomplished such a feat. Extinguished as your puissance is, you remain true warriors.”

The deities and slug man bowed before the pair. A vexed Salmer turned to an annoyed Zumot, who merely shook his head.

“We’re sick of this farce, Mate. You people invaded our universes, slaughtered thousands of mortals, kidnapped us, beat us to a bloody pulp, stole our powers, and locked us up in that stinking library, all to depose the Omni-King over some great war that happened ages ago, assuming it ever did. Did I miss anything?”

(_Mate sighs_). “I and mine have indeed earn’d thy rancour, Lord Arak, yet what has transpired thus far is not of our design. There are greater powers at work here than those of mine or any other Numen.”

“I thought you said it was unbecoming for a Numen to lie.”

“I speak no lies, utter no falsehood. That much I can assure thee. Whether thou dost hearken or not is—.”

“[_Why don’t you ask that faggot lackey of yours to lend you his sword? Aim lower this time, between your legs, or better yet, between the crack of your—_].”

(_Stern Masala is…_). “[_Salmer Khaitan… thou hast most valid reasons to harbour wrath, yet now is not the time or place to voice it. I can aid in finding its source so thou mayest—_].”

“[_So I may what: forgive and forget? __Dream on, snail piss! I didn’t become who I am by letting assholes walk all over me and get away with it_].”

“[_‘Tis not thy forgiveness we seek, but thy welfare_].”

“[_You know what **I** seek, escargot? For you sons and daughters of bitches to go fuck yourselves!_].”

“Salmer!”

The salty Kualuan turned tail and left. A mortified Zumot turned to the Numina.

“I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

(_Lahpeth shakes his head_). “Nay, mine Lord. Geene-sama knoweth his dignity and is loath to see it trampled. Powerless he might be, yet he’ll not part with his honour. Well do we know the ignominy of its loss.”

“[_I sense much anger in him, great grief, pain exceeding. If naught is done, he could go down the wrong path, same as… excuse me_].”

A saddened Masala took after the disgraced Hakaishin. Zumot turned to the remaining gods.

“You said something about there being ‘greater powers’ at work here, Mate. Care to elaborate?”

“Mine sister, Numena of Deletion Chifir, and several of our brethren plot betrayal. For eons they have awaited the most propitious time wherein to assail the All-Cosmos, subdue its imperant deities, and recover the power and state we once had. Chifir and her band have forgotten our ancient oath. Us Numina are task’d with sustaining balance throughout the universes, preserving their existence and that of all beings in them, e’en if it means sacrificing our own.” 

“Why haven’t you guys stopped them? You’re the Grand Numen. Aren’t you supposed to be stronger than them?”

“Strength wins battles, yet can easily lose wars.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

(_Concerned Lahpeth is…_). “Shall I continue in thy stead, Meito-sama?”

(_Mate shakes his head_). “Chifir and her partisans are allied with deities strange to us. The latter claim they were banished to the Void from time immemorial, harbour great ire against Zen-Oh All-Sovereign. The fullness of their machinations is unknown to us, yet they intend to levy war ‘gainst him and the All-Cosmos. Diminish’d as they are, their puissance vastly exceeds our own.”

(_Lahpeth turns to Zumot_). “Thou art aware of Shinsen Might and Chaos Dynamis, Lord Arak. They are the purest form of what thou and thine’s term “God ki” and “Energy of Destruction, the self-same energies used for the inception and cessation of the All-Cosmos. As thou knowest, the task of Creation is performed by the race of the Kais, whereas Hakaishin assume that of Destruction. Natheless, once there were beings that carried out both.”

(_Skeptic Zumot is…_). “Beings with the power to create _and_ destroy?”

At that moment, a familiar aura filled the area. Rather than alarmed, the trio and others felt at ease. The source of that aura could be no other than…

“Is that you, Masala?”

“[_Aye, Zumot al Massaya. The beings Lord Lahpeth speaks of were called __せいとしん_ _(Seitoshin), Gods of Life and Death_. _Theirs__ was the power of __生死__ (Seishi) or life-and-death_[1]_. These beings could create and destroy at their own volition. They had no overlord, answered to none but themselves_].”

“What happened to them?”

(_Mate puts on his thinking cap_). “We know not. Not even the 司祭 (_Shisai_[2]) of mine home-world Matsura could account for their disappearance.”

“Shisai? You mean priests?”

“Precisely. Such knowledge was reserved for a chosen few amongst the 大祭司 (_Dai Saishi_), the High Priests of Matsura. No others, be they god or mortal, could share in it. Once the time of the Seitoshin ended, a deity known only as 名も無き者 (_Namonaki Mono_[3]), the Nameless One, divided Seishi into two Aspects: 呼吸 (_Kokyū_) and 禁煙 (_Kin’en_[4]), Breath and Cessation. The latter was given to the 守護神 (_Shugoshin_[5]) or Guardian Gods. The latter were tasked with the protection of universes, galaxies, quadrants, planets, emperors, kings, and holy persons. Their progeny were the first Numina of Deletion. Mine ancestor Ophion was among them.”

“[_There is also a third Aspect which formerly constituted Seishi: __真空__ (Shinkū), or Vacuity. For reasons unknown, the Nameless One kept Vacuity for themselves, allowed none to know it, save for those few they deem’d worthy, such as the __名も無き預言者__ (Namonaki Yogen-sha_[6]_), the Nameless Prophets. Lord Mate, Lady Chifir, and mine-self were among the last to learn at their feet. The Aspect of Breath was gifted to an__other godly race, the __原始的なもの __(Genshitekina Mono_[7]_), the Primeval Ones, beings tasked with creating life, antecessors of the Kais. The Aspect of Cessation was entrusted to the Guardian Gods. Theirs was the power of ending life_].”

“What happened to the Guardian Gods and the Primeval Ones?”

“[_Both are believed to have vanished sometime after the first Numina of Deletion came into power. How or why is unknown to us_].”

“I see... you also said you needed our God ki and Destruction Energy to get everyone out of the Void Realm, Mate.”

“Indeed.”

(_Arak scowls_). “Those “strange gods” you talked about… they’re Seitoshin, Shugoshin, all others you guys spoke about?” (_Mate nods_). “They forced you to do it, didn’t they?”

His hands behind his back, the grim Mate walked about a stone-throw away. Zumot gestured as if to speak, but held his tongue. The Calamantian cautiously eyed the dragon deity. The Shihaishin looked just as he had shortly after vanquishing Geene and Arak.

“[_There’s something else he’s not telling us. What is it that has him so worried?_].”

“Arakku-sama…”

“What is it, Lahpeth?”

The samurai stopped in front of the fallen Hakaishin. Without another word, Lahpeth removed his _Zunari kabuto_, then undid the silken bindings that kept a metallic _sōmen_[8] fixed over his countenance. As Zumot surmised, the Numen wasn’t of humanoid extraction. Lahpeth’s head was like that of an anthropomorphic shark, a cross between a great white, a tiger shark, perhaps other species. More curious still, the warrior wore his Afro-textured oxblood hair in a _chonmage_[9], albeit with an unshaven pate. The Numen’s face hosted a veritable empire of scars, all as ancient as Lahpeth himself, his cinnabar-hued eyes staring back at the late Lord Arak.

“Mine name is マサルかいと (Masaru Kaito[10]). I hail from the Seventeenth Universe, wherein I born a slave long ago at Planet Hayabusa. I served several masters throughout the years, ‘til the day I won mine manumission. I became _ashigaru_[11] in the army led by Daimyo Nobuyuki Osamu of Planet Oda. Mine skill in battle earned the attention of Terer-sama, father and predecessor of Lord Mate. I pledg’d mine-self to him, and he entrusted me with learning swordplay and martial arts onto his progeny: the eldest daughter, Harada-sama, the second son, Xagon-sama, and the third son, Kyuemon-sama. All three were worthy of their sire, yet young Xagon became mine best pupil. He tirelessly train’d, applied himself in his studies, and…” (_Sighs_). “I have served under Meito-sama for eons. He, Lady Chifir, Lords Caron, Masala, and I ascended together. Chifiru-sama was pledg’d to the Seventeenth Universe as シハイシン (_Shihaishin_), Governing Deity. Lords Mate, Masala, and Caron were pledg’d to the Eighteenth. Meito-sama was Shihaishin. Masara-sama was チュおしん (_Chuoshin_), Median Deity. Caron-sama… he… he was ブショシン (_Bushoshin_), Warlord Deity... the rank I mine-self held as part of the triumvirate assign’d to the Fourteenth.”

(_Zumot blinks in utter confusion_). “Why’re you telling me all this?”

“We want no part in what Chifiru-sama and her party plot. Commanded by such deities, they have abducted warriors throughout the universes. Sencha-sama, Kocha-sama, and their group have summon’d magicks, minister’d physics to enthrall them into most foul bondage, one for which there is no remission.”

Zumot sweated nervously. The fallen Destroyer swallowed hard.

“They… they’re going to do that to _us_ too, aren’t they?”

“We’ll not let that happen. Meito-sama, Masara-_hakase_[12], Beinweru-kyō[13], mine-self, all of us herein shall fight. E’en if we should fall, we—.”

Lahpeth realized Arak wasn’t listening. The saddened amphibian watched as the scowling Salmer sat away from the other ex-Destroyers, none of whom seemed to be in a welcoming mood themselves.

“[_Masala seems to be talking to him. Of course, Geene being Geene, he’s not happy about it. You’ve never been much for conversation, have you, Salmer? Not that I blame you. If nothing else, I’m glad you’re letting anybody approach you at all_].”

Zumot’s mind got running again. The time was eons ago. A heavy, ornate door opened. God of Destruction Arak XXIV, son of Ksarak, of House Gat, stepped into the Main Hall of his castle. Once he’d made sure there was nobody else around, the Hakaishin bade someone behind him to enter. His brow creased, a reluctant young Salmer complied. 

“Welcome to our home, Salmer Khaitan. Cukatail will now escort you to your room.”

Bonak’s student took a look around. Dressed in his Universe 12 training _gi_ and simple training shoes, his meager luggage in a backpack slung over his shoulders, the Kualuan surveyed the area, as if in search for something. The Calamantian turned to Cukatail.

“Summon the Agents. They’re expected here in five minutes. I’ll see to the boy.”

The Angel nodded and left. Arak turned to the scowling Kualuan.

“What are you looking for, young one?”

Salmer initially shrank back, yet calmed down soon afterward. Clutching his bag, the saddened fish lad looked the Destroyer straight in the eyes.

“L-Lord Bonak… he… he… hate me.”

(_Aghast Arak is…_). “N-No, he doesn’t! What makes you think that!?”

(_Salmer points to himself_). “W-Weak.”

Arak stared into Salmer’s trembling, raw umber eyes. The boy was a mere breath away from weeping. The Hakaishin from the Universe of Balance gathered his thoughts.

“[_Poor kid. Damn if he doesn’t remind me of…_].” (_Sighs, approaches Salmer_). “Salmer… Bonak didn’t send you here because he wanted to get rid of you. He wouldn’t have taken you in just to throw you away later. I’ve known him for thousands of years. He’s not that kind of male.” 

(_Hopeful Salmer is…_). “H-He thinks I… weak. I-I become s-strong… he h-happy?”

“Salmer… [_Why did I let you talk me into this, Musgrave? Me, Cukatail, the Agents, we already have our work cut out for us. On top of that, I have to teach meditation, mindfulness, and other so-called gentle arts (which have taken me centuries to master, by the way) to a willful, paranoid, traumatized child, who likely committed his first murder ‘round the same age I learned to ride. Not that **my** childhood was all peaches and cream, but still… what should I do? I could take the lad to his quarters, tell him to wait till I send Cukatail to get him. It could work out… like it did for Ciroc and Martinu? They turn their backs for a minute. Next thing they know, kid’s spying on them, beating some poor sap to a bloody pulp ‘coz he… hmm, beat up… what if…? Yeah… might as well. Worth a try…_].” (_Arak smiles kindly_). “Yes, young one. Bonak will be very happy if you become stronger, but you have to work hard to get there.”

(_Salmer smiles with determination_). “I-I w-work hard!”

“[_So far, so good…_].Like I said, you have to work hard. Watching other warriors and learning from them is part of that. Tell you what: I’ll start training with my Agents of Destruction in a moment. Why don’t you leave your things with me? I’ll ask Cukatail to take them to your room. In the meantime, I want you to find yourself a good hiding spot on the roof so you can see and hear everything we do, but you must make sure nobody else sees or hears you till I say otherwise. You remember Martinu’s lessons about ki control, right? Let’s see how well she’s taught you. [_Please hurry up. Cukatail and the Agents should be arriving right about…_].”

The Kualuan nodded, flew away to the darkness above. Around a minute and a half later, Cukatail returned with Arak’s warriors. The Agents of Destruction vowed as their leader made to approach the Destroyer, yet the latter gestured at her to stay where she was. The Calamantian handed Salmer’s baggage to Cukatail, whispered something into his ear. Once the Attendant left, the Hakaishin turned to his Agents.

“I have an important announcement to make. After talking with God of Destruction Bonak of Universe 12, I agreed to host one of his students for one year. His name is Salmer Khaitan.” (_Clears throat_). “Tumak Samir[14].”

The warrior who’d tried to approach Arak rose. Clad in the xanthic-yellow and beaver-brown uniform worn by Universe 5’s Agents of Destruction, Samir was an anthropomorphic reptilian female with bandaged digitigrade feet, not all that different from an Argentine black and white tegu. Her scaly skin dotted with manifold black spots, Samir’s heavily scarred right eye was covered by an eyepatch, further accentuating her look of fierceness tempered by a strange wisdom well beyond her late teens.

“Did you go over my letter with the others?”

“I did, Lord Arak. I've made it a point to review your instructions with the others at least twice a day. I believe we are well informed on how we should conduct ourselves around this youth[15].”

“Good. Head to the Training Hall. Be ready by the time I get there.”

The group bowed again and left. Once he was sure they were gone, Arak signaled Salmer, who then came out of hiding.

“Did you get a chance to read their ki?”

“I-I d-did. S-Strong w-warriors… t-they d-don’t k-know a-about me?”

(_Arak smiles kindly_). “No. You kept your energy perfectly concealed. Martinu has taught you well, young one. Go back into hiding and follow me. Remember: don’t let anybody see, hear, or sense you till I say so.”

Salmer did as he was told. Once Arak reached the Training Hall, Samir and the other Agents bowed anew. The group began sparring. They had been fighting for well over an hour by the time Cukatail rejoined them. Soon after, the God of Destruction ordered his pupils to stop, told his Attendant to heal their wounds and replenish their stamina. Once Cukatail did so, Arak ordered Samir to approach. The tegu complied.

“Excellent demonstration, my Agents. Your skill and diligence are well noted.” 

“Excuse me, Lord Arak? I have a question. It’s about our new guest[16].”

“Is that so? Rise, Sabrat Muscat[17].”

The voice belonged to a Naatsusian, a male in his mid-to-late teens, from the looks of it. Muscat’s Marengo-hued fur was crisscrossed by variegated scars over the face. Along with his U5 Agent of Destruction training _gi_, the rodent kept a tube-like cylindrical object clasped to the left of his belt. Once he’d risen, Muscat squinted, looked to the roof above the Destroyer God.

“He’s up there, isn’t he?”

The other Agents started to murmur to the tune of “I don’t sense anything,” “crazy rat’s at it again,” “is this another surprise training exercise?,” etc. An impressed Arak smiled. 

“Your insight serves you well, Adept of the Devas. I expected nothing less from a member of the Sabrat Clan.” (_Looks up_). “It’s ok, Salmer. You can come out now.”

The young amphibian leapt down, landed not far from Arak. The Agents exchanged further remarks to the tune of “He was here all along!?,” “I didn’t even feel his energy!,” “He doesn’t look so tough,” etc. 

For their part, Samir and Muscat kept their wits about them, assessed the newcomer’s ki. Like the rodent, the Merianean’s[18] expression betrayed no discernible emotion as a stern Salmer returned their stares. A cool and collected Arak cleared his throat.

“Settle down, everyone. Apologies for the subterfuge. This was all part of a training exercise I set up for Salmer. Come forth, young one…” (_Salmer complies_). “Did you get a good look at my warriors?” (_Salmer nods_). “Then I think it’s time you returned the favor. Tumak Samir, you will spar with—”

“H-Him, t-too.”

“What?”

The Hakaishin followed Salmer’s finger. It pointed straight at Muscat. Though at first taken aback, the Naatsusian quickly regained his composure as an incredulous Arak blinked twice.

“You want to fight Muscat after your match with Samir? Is that your wish, young one?”

“H-Him, t-too. N-Now.”

Samir and Muscat stared at the Destroyer in utter confusion. Arak himself wasn’t all too happy.

“Absolutely not. You’ll spar with Samir first. You can battle Muscat afterward.”

A scowling Salmer drilled his steely eyes into the Destroyer from the Universe of Balance. 

“Y-You t-think i-it, t-too.”

“Think what?”

“T-That I-I a-am w-weak.”

(_Unnerved Arak is…_). “[_Those eyes… that’s how Ciroc used to…_]. Young one… I…”

“Lord Arak.”

Samir walked to the Calamantian, signaled Muscat to do the same.

“May we speak in private?”

Arak nodded. Having told Salmer to stay put, the Destroyer and his pupils moved till they were sure they’d be seen, but not heard.

“Lord Arak… as you know, I have been a warrior all my life. I began training at a time most hatchlings learn to crawl. As per your own estimation, Muscat and I are among the strongest fighters of our universe. This boy, however, is something else entirely. I daresay, he’s twice as strong as me when I was that age.”

“I must agree with Samir, Sir. I also felt something else when I sensed the lad’s ki. I could be wrong, but it seems to me young Salmer is attuned to Kekuatan[19].”

(_Puzzled Arak is…_). “You mean தேவர்களின் ஓட்டம் (_Tēvarkaḷiṉ ōṭṭam_[20]), the Flow of the Devas? What makes you think that?”

“As I said, I could be mistaken. It’s been barely a year since Master Batavius sent me to you. I’ve maintained my training as a Mahir para Dewa, of course, yet my prowess is still wanting. Only my former teacher or the Masters of Sababay[21] could say for certain.”

(_Arak shakes his head_). “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’ll let you two fight Salmer at the same time. Lord Bonak would never forgive me if I allowed that boy to come to harm.”

“Muscat and I shall abide by your decision. However, I don’t think the lad will prove easy to persuade.”

“Indeed. He is much too headstrong.”

“Are you implying Salmer needs humbling, Muscat?”

“Not humbling. Assuring.”

(_Samir nods once_). “I see what you’re getting at. If he battles the two of us and suffers defeat, the loss, painful and humiliating as it might be, should impart valuable lessons. If _he_ vanquishes _us_, however…”

“Then he’ll know for certain he’s not weak.” (_Arak ponders_). “I don’t know. You two have been training your whole lives, yet Salmer…”

“Your letter stated the boy is a former assassin conscripted by the Blood Sun Syndicate. Bastards… nevertheless, their warriors, even their rank and file, tend to be superbly trained. From what I have gathered, Salmer himself is no exception. I agree with Muscat. Perhaps it’s best to let the lad have his way, at least this time around. We’ll use our best judgement, Lord Arak. You know you can trust us.” 

“Perhaps you’re right. You two know the drill.”

The group returned to the others. The tegu fighter took her place at the center of the ring. Having handed the strange cylinder to Cukatail, Muscat removed his shoes, wrapped his hands and feet in fresh bandages as Salmer followed suit. Arak turned to the fighters.

“Tumak Samir, Sabrat Muscat, Salmer Khaitan, heed my words. This is a sparring match. Lethal force and all ki-based techniques, including flying, are absolutely prohibited. Lastly, no hitting below the belt. Am I understood?” (_The fighters nod once, bow to one another_). “Begin!”

Salmer swipes at Samir, who parries, tries a sweep kick, fails, then—

“My lords...”

The spooked Zumot fell flat on his ass. Beinwell, Mate’s attendant, apparated in front of Lahpeth and him without so much as a warning. The moody Calamantian caught his breath. There he was, still powerless, trapped along with Salmer and other disgraced deities.

(_Zumot scowls_). “What do you want?”

“Lord Mate would have thee join thy fellow failures, Sirrah Eel. He wishes to address ye. That is all.”

With that, the Archangel vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. A grumbling Zumot turned to the shark deity, who'd put his mask and helmet back on by then. Lahpeth’s look told the Calamantian everything he needed to know. With a saddened sigh, the late Lord Arak and his minder took to where the dragon god awaited.

Salmer raised his head. Zumot and that bastard Lahpeth were headed his way. The Kualuan wasn’t in the mood for another reprimand, yet he would’ve gladly made an exception just to hear Arak’s voice.

“[_Arak… Zumot… it’s all my fault. If I’d trained harder, I could’ve mastered Ultra Instinct. We could’ve beaten Mate, and… they must be laughing now. Bonak, Martinu, Ag… they must already know, how that damn snake fucked me up, the Agents. Samir... Muscat… Ty… Bok… I… I…_].”

Salmer looked to his right. Masala sat in _seiza_-style somewhat apart. His pinhole eyes shut, the mollusk man radiated a soothing silvery light.

(_Salmer grumbles_). “[_The fuck are **you** doin’ here?_].”

(_Serene Masala is…_). “[_Herein I have awaited for quite some time. Didst thou take notice of me just now?_].”

“[_Hell’re you talkin’ about!? Of course I noticed you! I’ve got eyes…_].”

“[_…yet thou seest not_].”

“[_If you’re gonna start speakin’ in riddles, you can kindly fuck off. I’ve had it up to here with you Numerous of Detestation…_].”

“[_Numina of Deletion…_].”

“[_Whatever_].”

“[_Anger corrodes, Salmer Khaitan. It does no good to cling to it_].”

“[_Damn slug. You’ve been reading my mind, haven’t you?_].”

“[_Aye, albeit against mine will_].”

“[_The hell do you mean? There’s no such thing as accidents, not when it comes to mindreading. Either you do it, or you don’t. Simple as that_].”

“[_Thou art correct… for the most part. Ordinarily, ‘twould be difficult for me to practise telepathy without thy knowledge. Weakened or otherwise, to read the mind of a deity is no mean feat_].”

“[_Just answer the friggin' question, pepper steak_].”

“[_‘Tis not I who trespass, mine Lord. Such is thy doing_].”

(_Salmer grumbles_). “[_Bullshit! I lost my powers to that “brother” of yours, and you know it! None of us can sense ki, fly, use telepathy, or do anything else we used to. We’ve got your Grand fucking Numen to thank for that_].”

“[_Of that I am ware, yet there is another power thou dost possess_].”

“[_You’re pullin’ my damn leg…_].” (_Masala keeps quiet_). “[_Hell’re you talking about, anyway?_].”

“[_Chikara, Salmer Khaitan. Thou hast it_].”

(_Puzzled Salmer is…_). “[_You mean that mystical magic thing you use? What makes you think that?_].”

“[_I can feel it. The faculty is thine’s. It merely wants awakening_].”

“[_Really? Can you do that?_].”

“[_I shall not_].”

“[_Huh!? Why not!?_].”

“[_Thou art not ready_].”

“[_You gotta be fucking kidding me! I used to be a Destroyer God, for crying out loud! If I could learn all that, I definitely can handle Chickpea!_].”

“[_Chikara, mine Lord. __Do not misconstrue me. Thou art unready, not incapable_].”

“[_Meaning?_].”

“[_Thou art what I once was, Salmer Khaitan_].” (_Salmer keeps quiet_). “[_Allow me to explain. I do not hail from anywhere in the All-Cosmos, at least not the one known to thou and thine’s_].”

“[_You from another dimension or something?_].”

“[_Indeed. The universe wherein I first open’d mine eyne is altogether elsewhere. I have few memories regarding the planet of mine birth, yet I remember the name which mine kin conferred unto it: Fortia_].”

Masala sighed again. The sage’s serene tone shifted into regret-tinged sorrow. His opened eyes looked on ahead as if they could see past events unfold all over again.

“[_One day I wondered far from our village. ‘Twas nearly morrow by the time I returned. The square. The well. The hut of the chieftain. The cavern wherein the sages dwelt. They were… gone. High aloft the smoke reach’d. Flames engulfed all I beheld. Still does mine mind’s eye see them. Corses charr’d, reeking unto heav’n. The marauders apprehended me. Their features are unknown to me to this day. All of them wore coal-hued masks. They had a fluent crimson sphere for a blazon. Art thou well, Salmer Khaitan?_].”

The Kualuan sweated uneasily. The late Lord Geene was about to speak, yet Masala softly gestured at him to keep quiet.

“[_Thou knowest what I speak of_].”

“[_Would you quit reading my damn mind!?_].”

“[_‘Twas unnecessary. Thy countenance betray’d thee_].”

“Masara-_hakase_…”

The slug man raised his eyes. Lahpeth and the late Lord Arak stood about a stone’s throw away.

“Summons from Meito-sama.”

The slug man rose. A reluctant Salmer stood up with his help.

“[_Canst thou walk?_].”

“[_Of course I can walk! I—_].”

(_Distressed Zumot is..._). "SALMER!"

The Kualuan stumbled. The warrior once known as Geene was about to land face-first when he opened his eyes as a mysterious energy flow suspended him mid-air and set him upright.

“[_Art thou injured, mine Lord?_].”

A scowling Salmer nearly fell anew. Without further deliberation, Lahpeth gently hoisted the Kualuan over his back and began to walk away.

“[_The fuck’re you doing!? Put me down!_].”

“Time is of the essence. I beg thy pardon, Lord Geene. Verily, I am loath to do thus.”

“[_Why, you sonova—!_]."

(_Stern Zumot is…_). “That’s enough, Salmer. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Salmer grumbled to himself. The fish man watched as a vexed Zumot trailed behind a taciturn Masala. For his part, Lahpeth kept his mouth shut till the group reached the area where Mate and the other fallen Destroyers awaited. Having set his charge down not far from Mule and Vermoud, the samurai bowed, then knelt to the Grand Numen’s left, with Masala occupying the right. Naked from the waist up, the barefooted Mate floated above ground, seated in a lotus position as he solemnly sang in Japanese.

Salmer gritted his teeth. Who was this creep, anyway? Every movement, every gesture, every word of his was rife with… power? Undeniably so. There was more to it than that, though. What, then? Purpose. Determination. Finality.

Mate was a god in every sense of the word. He wanted nothing; he needed nothing. He wasn’t above anger, sorrow, or other emotions: he _was_ anger, sorrow, joy. Whatever else he was, he was—

Salmer: “[_An absolute piss-stain. That’s exactly what you are. Hurry up and do whatever it is you’re gonna do. Just starin’ at that mug of yours makes me sick_].”

????: “[_Dost thou want a looking-glass, mine Lord?_].”

A spooked Salmer nearly fell flat on his ass. It was no other than…

Salmer (_furious_): “[_Beinwell! Just wait till I—_].”

Beinwell (_irked_): “[_Thou wilt keep silent, mortal!_].” (_Calms down a bit_). “[_Thou art as an open tome unto us, Sirrah Minnow. Pray, indite thee aught worthy of reading. I, for one, am grown tired of thy bootless malisons_].”

Salmer: “[_Oh, so you’re tired, you old fuck? How about I put you to sleep with—_].”

“Salmer, enough!”

The Kualuan beheld a livid Zumot. Arms crossed against his chest, the Calamantian gave the Archangel the stink eye, did much the same to the scowling fish man. The fallen Destroyer turned away, side-glanced at the shimmering, _seiza_-seated Masala. Much against his will, Salmer recalled the former Numen’s words: “coal-hued masks,” “fluent crimson sphere.”

Blood Sun.

Those bastards didn’t just wreak havoc across the known Multiverse.

Their claws reached every time, everywhere.

Nobody was safe. Not even gods.

Much against his will, Salmer Khaitan got lost in his own mind’s eye. There he was, still a Destroyer, a good thirty years after Bonak’s retirement, accompanying Arak on a mission to Planet Libra of Universe 5.

Ordinarily, no self-respecting Hakaishin would even think about interfering in the affairs of other universes. It was practically taboo for Destroyers to assist gods other than their respective Supreme Kais. Accepting assistance themselves was also out of the question.

Nevertheless, even the most vaunted rules are meant to be broken. This mission was crucial not just for Universes 5 and 12, but the whole Multiverse. 

Blood Sun was back. Like in the old days, they were kidnapping children. They had to be stopped once and for all.

Even so, aid from other Hakaishin would be practically nonexistent. Riesling XVI, son of Thurgau, was busy quelling a multi-galactic uprising at Universe 1. He couldn’t spare any of his sons, but graciously sent House Bundaberg’s renowned Spätburg Legion to assist. Jerez XI, daughter of Philopatra, of House Ahram, newly appointed Hakaishin of Universe 2, busied herself with hunting down loyalist remnants who’d supported the usurper god Domecq XXIV. Regardless, she allowed Geene and Arak to borrow three of her best Agents of Destruction as a token of goodwill.

Haku XXXVIII, heir of Fugu, of House Ketel, currently aided Universe 3’s Kais in repairing catastrophic damage suffered by several planets in the wake of a “galactic sunbomb holocaust." He sent a whole century’s worth of foodstuffs to aid the war effort, along with a junior Kai to oversee the construction of new equipment. Still no word from Universe 4’s Sazerac XVIII. So much the better, far as Arak and Geene were concerned. The less they had to see and hear of that feline son of a bitch, the better.

Afsnath XXIX, daughter of Desclan, of House Marnier, oversaw final preparations for her son’s ascension even as she brutally stiffled a galaxy-wide uprising instigated by Universe 6’s Icejin Empire. Hakaishin Emeritus Tusker XXXV, son of Lager, of House Artois, was busy with an “important mission” back at Universe 7. Beerus XXVII, his son and newly appointed successor, was sleeping and wouldn’t wake up for a good five centuries. Arak breathed easier, relieved they wouldn’t have to put up with that volatile asshat, or his mean-spirited, self-important jerkwad of a father.

Nebbiolus XLII, son of Prosecco, of House Amarone, convalesced after nearly dying from the “Purpure Scourge” that ravaged Universe 8 at the time. He’d lost more than half of his bastards and all but four of his eleven children to the plague and the galaxy-wide wars of the past three centuries. Aperol, Nebbiolus’ forth oldest son, served as interim Hakaishin till his father’s health improved. Sambucco, the first youngest, was tasked with mediating a trade dispute between U8’s dreaded Icejin Empire and the no less dangerous Saiyan Kingdom of Sabiwa. Rugato, Nebbiolus’ second youngest son, was little better off than his sire, so not much could be expected from him. Luxarda, the fifth youngest daughter, assisted U8’s Kais in remedying the galaxy-wide ravages caused by the Scourge.

Bantam XCIX, son of Bulmer, of House Blackthorn, was embroiled in yet another cosmic civil war against his own family and the few other remaining Noble Houses of Universe 9, so he wasn’t in much of a mood to cooperate. Kapil XIX, son of Sharbat, of House Hariya, oversaw the pacification of Universe 10’s Kais after the aborted rebellion of Grand Kai Loureba XXVIII. His sons couldn’t go in his stead, seeing how they were dead, sick, injured, held hostage, busy elsewhere, etc. Lastly, Universe 11’s Riccadonna XXXIII, heiress of Somran, of House Cinzano, was recuperating after a failed assassination attempt perpetrated by rival House Manzino. She was also finalizing her soon-to-be successor’s training, but sent four of her house’s most trusted Agents of Destruction to assist. So much for universal cooperation...

As for Geene, this was his fourth solo assignment away from his adopted universe, his first as a full-fledged God of Destruction. The Kualuan sighed. It was the old days all over again. Only Bonak was missing.

The Hakaishin had received several tips concerning a series of underground passageways filled with hostages of all ages, races, sexes, etc. Time was of the essence, yet the deities couldn’t risk alerting the enemy to their presence. Thus, with help from their Attendants, they submerged their God ki and Destruction Energy.

The gambit worked. The Kualuan and Calamantian rescued all hostages they came across, Hakai’d any operatives they came across before they could alert their superiors. So far, so good. Nothing a young, hardworking Hakaishin couldn’t handle.

Martinu and Cukatail signaled that the last hostages were safe. The time for subtlety was over. Arak and Geene unlocked their divine powers just before they stormed the place where higher-ranking Blood Sun leaders hid. The Calamantian and Kualuan glowered after blowing up a massive Covontilum door. Arms crossed against the chest, both deities shone with Destruction Energy. It only took a few seconds for the message to sink in. The Blood Sunners dropped their weapons and knelt, their mouths shut in fearful silence at the sight of the avenging demons. At that moment, the Calamantian’s keen eye spotted something irregular.

“Geene? Are you alright?”

The Destroyer from Universe 12 stood transfixed, mouth agape. The gods were surrounded by rotting meat dangling from hooks. There was blood and filth everywhere.

It all came back to Salmer.

Screaming children.

The whip rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell…

_We have a mission for you, Teal Storm._

_These men threaten our operations._

_Kill them all._

_If you fail, you’ll service our clients for the duration of the month._

_Succeed, and you won’t have to keep us company… at least not tonight._

_Well done, Oyzo._

_Once more you’ve lived up to your name, Teal Storm._

_You’re one of us, boy._

_Now and forever._

“Geene? Geene, what wrong?”

Arak’s voice barely reached the young Destroyer. Tears flooding his eyes, the Kualuan shut his mouth. His visage twisted by hate, Salmer’s eyes became aflame in engulfing purpure. Without warning, the screaming God of Destruction scratched a thug kneeling in front of him square in the face, flaying his visage in a single swipe, kicked another guy’s countenance, reducing it to a bloody mush of flesh and bone, sank his hand all the way into some poor devil’s back, yanked out his spinal cord, cranium and all, reduced both to dust by smashing them into some other dope’s head. Roaring like the fiend incarnate he was, Geene the Annihilator incinerated over ten others with a blast of Destruction Energy fired from his draconic mouth, all while a stunned Arak watched. Part of him wanted to join in on the fun, but the older Hakaishin soon got a hold of himself. There was only one way to stop the younger deity.

“HAKAI!”

An explosion of destructive ki burst through the labyrinth, obliterated the thugs, dead or otherwise. When the dust settled, only Geene and Arak stood as Cukatail and Martinu approached the ruins. The former Attendant barely masked his agitation. The latter remained unflappable, her expression one of reproach rather than outrage as a panting Geene extinguished his aura and flew away, barely acknowledging his own blood-soaked body.

Later that afternoon, Geene looked out to the horizon from the balcony of the Temple of Gat in Nakhad. This place held fond memories. Year-long training expeditions with the Calamantian and his students, particularly Sabrat Muscat and Tumak Samir. Those two had long since “graduated,” gone on to fulfill their duties to their respective clans. What a fucking waste. They would’ve made excellent Destroyers, far better than those stinking cats, the sleazy clown, the faggot rat, the bleeding-heart harlot, the good-for-nothing elephant, the green fuck-up, the asshole fox, and the useless hairball.

“Geene?”

The Kualuan didn’t budge. Salmer barely grunted in acknowledgement of his godfather and fellow Destroyer.

“What happened out there?” (_Geene grumbles to himself_). “You lost control.”

(_Geene scowls_). “Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

(_Stern Arak is…_). “Don’t give me cheek. Something happened to you out there. You were… upset, to say the least.”

“And you weren’t!? Those pieces of shit were buying and selling _children_, used ‘em for organ harvesting, prostitution, child soldiers! How could I _not _be upset!?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The Kualuan turned around, reclined against the balustrade, crossed his arms against his chest. The Calamantian looked resolutely into his fellow Hakaishin’s eyes.

“You’ve joined Bonak and me on similar missions before, and you never lost control like you did today. Geene, you… you were shouting, slaughtering everyone and everything in your way! Good thing Martinu and Cukatail removed the hostages beforehand, or you could’ve killed _them_ along with those bastards!”

“Why do you care?”

“Excuse me!?”

“Those people won’t hurt anyone else again. They’re lucky you Hakai’d them. Hell would’ve been too good for them, anyway.”

Arak glowered. It didn’t take Martinu to realize the Destroyer from the Universe of Balance was losing his patience. One wrong move or word, and he’d explode like Bonak whenever he’d chew out that troop of <strike>pansies</strike> <strike>faggots</strike> asswipes that once comprised his Agents of Destruction.

“Don’t change the subject. I would expect such recklessness from a rookie, not from you. For one thing, Martinu and Bonak trained you better than that. For another thing, you usually pull your punches in these situations, the opposite of—”

“The point. Get to it.”

“Something happened to you in that warehouse, Geene. I saw it in your face. You wanted to run away _and_ beat everyone there to a bloody pulp at the same time.”

“We’re Gods of Destruction, Arak. Beating things to a bloody pulp is what we do (something a certain redheaded moron would do well to remember).”

The Kualuan gasped. He’d said too much. Geene turned away, hoping against all hope Arak would get the picture.

(_Arak crosses his arms against his chest_). “I demand to know what happened.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“I beg to differ… Salmer Khaitan.”

“My name is Geene. Remember it.”

“I do remember… Oyzo Roku.”

(_Geene grumbles_). “Don’t call me that.”

“Tell me the truth, Oyzo.”

“Stop it!”

“The sooner you speak, the sooner it stops, Oyzo.”

“I’m warning you…”

“OYZO!”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT! MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, OLD MAN! THIS DOESN’T CONCERN YOU!”

“OF COURSE IT DOES! I’VE KNOWN BONAK SINCE OUR YOUTH! I’VE KNOWN **YOU** FROM THE DAY HE AND MARTINU TOOK YOU IN!” (_Calms down a bit_). “I won’t ask again. What. Happened?”

Arak wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Fighting or otherwise silencing him was also out of the question. Geene had no choice.

“Fine. What I’m about to say does _not_ leave this place. Am I understood, Zumot Al-Massaya?”

“I understand.”

“Not good enough. Make a Binding Oath.”

“Are you serious?”

(_Geene crosses his arms against his chest_). “Did I fucking stutter?”

(_Arak sighs_). “If that’s what it takes… so be it.”

The Calamantian shut his eyes, solemnly raised his right hand to the heavens as Energy of Destruction coursed through his and his godson’s every pore.

“I, God of Destruction Arak XXIV, son of Ksarak, of House Gat, born Zumot al-Massaya ibn Haddad, from the Eighth Universe, assigned to the Fifth Universe by the will of Zen-Oh All-Sovereign, do hereby make this Binding Oath before you, God of Destruction Geene XXII, heir of Bonak, of House Terroir, named Salmer Khaitan, from the Ninth Universe, assigned to the Twelfth Universe by the will of Zen-Oh All-Sovereign, before whom I solemnly vow to safeguard your secrets now and forevermore, as long as we remain deities. May the All-Sovereign himself purge me in mind, body, and soul should I ever break this Binding Oath.”

The flow of energy ceased. Having looked over his shoulders several times, the Kualuan breathed slightly easier.

“As you know, I’m originally from Universe 9, where Lord Bonak found me and...” (_Frowns_). “Did he ever tell you? Y’know, how we met?”

“He said he found you during a raid against Blood Sun.”

(_Geene shudders_). “I… I used to be… a slave, Arak.” 

The Calamantian’s eyes widened. A shuddering Geene sweated, starred at his own hands as if they were stained with blood.

“I never knew my parents. From what I’ve been told, they were… they were… very poor... too many mouths to feed... they… they sold me... sometimes, when I meditate, I see a small house by the sea... there’s… a male… a female… can’t… can’t… make out… faces... I hear yelling… children… crying… chains… locked… ship… stinks… stinks… meat… hooks… men… men… whip us… hard… sometimes… feed us… sometimes… not…”

“Geene, stop. You don’t have to…”

“I’m… dancing… I’m… naked… males are staring at me... they drag… drag me… to some room… they… they do… _things_… to me… it hurts… hurts… hurts… s-shame… f-f-filth… f-f-filthy… I… I… I’m… filthy… I-I’m… sorry.”

Geene turned away sank his nails into the palms of his hands. The Destroyer from U12 vainly struggled to keep from weeping in front of his fellow Hakaishin.

“Geene… Salmer… does anybody else know?”

“Only Martinu… Bonak… Ag… how… how could I… be… so… so… _weak_?”

“Salmer…” (_Carefully takes the younger male’s hand_). “You are _not_ weak. What happened wasn’t your fault. I know Bonak, Martinu, and Ag. They don’t think less of you because of that, and they don’t blame you for it, either.”

“M-My n-n-name is… Geene… I… I… Arak… I… I’m… sorry… I… I…”

“It’s ok. It’s ok.”

The Kualuan fell to his knees, wept openly under the Calamantian’s embrace.

“I… I’ll… I’ll never… be… weak… again… I… I… I swear…”

“It’s alright, my friend. It’s alright.”

Thankfully Martinu never brought up the outburst or any related topic. Geene had half a mind to order her to wipe all past memories prior to his ascension, but refrained from doing so. Not only was the practice outlawed and severely punishable under divine law: Martinu would never even consider it unless compelled by a higher authority, namely the Grand Priest or Zen-Oh himself. Eons passed, and the event faded from the Kualuan’s mind… or so he thought.

Returning to the present, Salmer’s thoughts dwelled on the “lost” gods standing before him. Mate and Lahpeth had the fierce temper and warlike disposition required to be a God of Destruction, yet their power dwarfed his own, as well as that of any Hakaishin he’d ever known. Masala, on the other hand, was a different breed altogether. The Kualuan cautiously eyed the fallen Numen. Nochirasu Akarui still sat in a _seiza _position, his very flesh alight with silvery ki.

Salmer couldn’t understand it. How in the world did that damn snail become a Numen? Monk boy looked like he would’ve barely qualified as a janitor, let alone a Hakaishin. The slug man was nowhere near the other two when it came to raw power, an unusual, albeit not unheard of occurrence.

Strength wasn’t everything. According to the lessons of Arak, Bonak, Martinu, Cukatail, and Ag, the history of the Multiverse was rife with Destroyers who accomplished great things despite being weaker than the ones who came before or after them. Hell, Arak himself wasn’t all that physically impressive, yet he still gave Bonak and Geene a hard time when they had their once-per-century mock battle in the presence of Zen-Oh, Grand Priest, the Angels, and their fellow Gods of Destruction. As for his effectivity, the fact Universe 5 was one of four universes exempt from the Tournament of Power spoke for itself.

By the same token, the Multiverse also abounded in high-and-mighty Hakaishin who abused their power. Raquetan LV, heir of Hendrick, of House Terroir, born Zafar von Warzwald, was called “The Slaughterer” for a reason. Damn reptile-ape would annihilate entire populations if they strayed from his so-called virtue. Bonak, Martinu, and Ag were still wary of the guy, and it’d been over ten centuries since his defeat and annihilation by his <strike>usurper</strike> successor. Nolet LXII, born Gordon Seagram, was an improvement, but not by much. Salmer still shuddered whenever he recalled Bonak’s stories about how that son of a bitch would break thumbs over trivial offenses, how spinal cords met a similar fate when it came to more serious crimes.

Nevertheless, even at their peak, Raquetan, Nolet, and their like couldn’t compare with Mate and the rest. Nothing about those monsters was right. Theirs was an inextricable sorrow, as if their mere existence had become a burden they were unable to cast off. Salmer guessed it came with the territory, seeing how they’d spent veritable eons trapped in a plane of existence where time only existed as perpetual, unchanging present. Who wouldn’t be a few pearls short of an oyster after enduring that for so long?

“Gather around, mine Lords.”

Enough musing. Perhaps the damn lizard had something relevant to say.

The fallen Hakaishin did as instructed. A weary Zumot made to speak, but couldn’t utter a word. The oppressive atmosphere that engulfed him and Geene before their fight with Mate returned. This time, however, it manifested through a field of Chaos Dynamis that erupted from beneath the floor, ensconced the Numina and prisoners within a searing crimson dome. Afterward, the dragon god unsheathed his katana, made it float to its center, where it circulated numinous ki as the silver aura around Masala surrounded the dome.

His feet on the ground, the grim Numen donned his shirt and shoes, then turned to his guests.

“Behold the 神の囲い (_Kami no kakoi_[22]), or Divine Enclosure. I entrust our guests to thee, Nochirasu-kun. Beinwell, Lord Lahpeth, with me.”

Masala nodded. In the blink of an eye, Mate and the former warped away, reemerged outside of the enclosure. Barely a minute later, the gigantic door exploded into mere fragments, killing several soldiers in the process.

Zumot took a closer look as far as the energy field and debris permitted. When the dust settled, a draconic female emerged from the other hall, followed by a fully healed Caron, Ganlu, Mulaban, and their own fighters. The dragon woman stood almost as tall as Mate himself. If the Calamantian’s estimations were correct, the newcomer was a shinobi. Clad in slate grey and onyx-colored armor, her bun-tied hair shone a metallic blue that complimented Mate’s metallic pink. Hands behind their backs, both deities approached one another.

(_Mate switches to Japanese_). “{Hail, Chifir-sama. Hast thou made thy choice?}.”

“{Hast thou made thine’s?[23]}.”

“{I have, お姉さん (_Onēsan_[24]). Thou hast spat upon everything we uphold}.” (_Grumbles at the sight of Caron, who hisses a shameless laugh_). “{I expected as much from our late brother, yet I thought thee better, Mayumi-san[25]. 'Twould seem I was gravely mistaken.”

“{Spare the platitudes, Makoto-san. Thy vaunted honour does us more harm than good. ‘Tis shame お父さん (_Otōsan_[26]) saw it not ‘til it was too late}.”

(_Mate glowers_). “{Leave Father out of this. He may have chosen poorly, yet he is not to blame for what came to pass}.”

(_Chifir crosses her arms against her chest_). “{Then we are in agreement. ‘Twas thou who doom’d us, not him}.”

Mate’s eyes trembled. His expression softened for a few microseconds.

“{Mayumi-kun, please… do not heed their counsel. Blame me, hate me if thou must, yet turn from such folly. Thou and thine’s must—}.”

“{じゃかまし!} (_Jakamashi!_[27]).

Yawning impudently, Caron left his position near Mulaban and Ganlu. The Grand Numen’s remaining soldiers shrank away from the snake man, who paid them no mind himself. Once he faced Mate, the serpent hissed a derisive laugh as he stared behind the Shihaishin all the way to the dome, then turned to the dragon deity in Nahuatl.

“{For a god of few words, thou art exceedingly fond of thine own voice, Xagon-kun.}.”

(_Livid Lahpeth is…_). “{Be silent, Amaru Teuhcatlipiltzin[28]! We shall not abide thy contumely!}.”

(_Caron feigns sadness_). “{Why dost thou wound me so, Kaito-sama? I hold no ill will towards thee}.”

“{Thou knowest full well, ちくしょう (_Chikushou_[29])! Every breath thou drawest is an affront against Terer-sama, Mate-sama, against all of us!}.”

(_Contemptuous Caron is…_). “{くそくらえ! (_Kuso kurae!_[30])}.”

Mate’s roar resounded throughout the dilapidated room, reaching the ears of Masala, the fallen Hakaishin, and both armies. The slug man was about to “speak” when the Governing Deity took over. 

“{Thy purpose is known to us, Onēsan. Thine overlords shall not attain what they they seek. I and mine will make sure of it—}.”

(_Unimpressed Chifir is…_). “{‘…e’en if doing so means our death.’ How predictable. Thy resolve is known to us, 弟さん (_Otōto-san_[31]), as is thy faith in those around thee}.”

(_Caron chuckles_). “{Indeed, 妹さん (_Imōto-kun_[32]). A pity ‘tis misplaced}.”

As if on cue, Mate felt pain on his lower abdomen. Warriors on both sides screamed, stared in utter disbelief. The Shihaishin looked downward. A teal-hued energy blade had torn all the way through the stomach, staining the floor beneath with blood.

“{MEITO-SAMA!”}.

Katana in hand, a screaming Lahpeth aimed at the attacker, only to be intercepted by Mulaban and Ganlu. As his former instructor and the others fought, the horrified dragon man glanced behind. The offending hand belonged to…

“Beinwell...”

“Long did I warn thee, Makoto-kun. Never lose sight of the enemy.”

Mate stares in front of him. Chifir’s left hand reaches for her _yoroi-dōshi_[33]. After she speaks _sotto-voce_ to Caron, the cobra god dashes to where Masala and the fallen Destroyers watch, proceeds to punch and kick at the energy dome. The Grand Numen thinks fast.

“{ATTACK!}.”

As his warriors engage Chifir’s, Mate hits Beinwell’s countenance with the back of his head, materializes a pair of _wakizashi_[34]. His nose bleeding, Beinwell barely dodges initial slashes at his throat and abdomen. Paramerion in hand, he’s joined by the shinobi, who now has a _dao _on her right hand to compliment the _tantō_[35] on her left.

A roaring Mate and Chifir unleash Mastered Ultra Instinct. Mate resumes the form that defeated Geene and Arak. The bun on Chifir’s head shatters. Her flowing hair takes on a metallic saffron tinge. Her eyes burn like royal yellow coals as Beinwell and the ninja rush the Grand Numen.

In the blink of an eye, Mate dauntlessly parries near-infinite stabs and slashes, responds with over a hundredfold of his own. The dragon gods and the Archangel are much too familiarized with each other’s moves and fighting styles, so they barely make a dent on their opponents. Mate discharges a plume of Chaos Dynamis from his mouth. Beinwell deflects it with a swing of his paramerion. A few embers nearly get into Chifir’s eyes, but she comes out with only a few minor burns on the chest and shoulders as she responds in kind. Mate successfully dispels the flames with the left arm. The latter ends up bruised.

Already in Mastered UI, Lahpeth, Ganlu, and Mulaban are in the thick of battle. Lahpeth’s hair has assumed a beige-like tint, eyes aflame in fern green. On the other hand, Ganlu’s hair and fur take on pear gold hues, his eyes colored a light shade of limestone. Mulaban’s skin shimmers like living tiger’s eye, his pupils and irises ablaze like cherry blossom shards.

Ganlu disarms Lahpeth. The samurai gouges out his left eye with a swipe of his claws. The imperial lion god doesn’t even flinch. Barely acknowledging his bleeding socket, Ganlu’s stare briefly meets Mulaban’s. Black blade-like protrusions jut from the former’s six forearms. The scorpion-tailed Numen makes to stab Lahpeth’s knees and shins. The shark warrior jumps away, evades Mulaban in time to take Ganlu’s fist square to the jaw. Ignoring his dented _kabuto_, Lahpeth jumps back in, manages to gut Ganlu and break Mulaban’s sixth left arm. The pair fight on like nothing happened.

A good ten minutes into the skirmish, Chifir and Beinwell sense a disturbance. Something (or someone) is bolstering their opponents’ ki.

(_Stern Chifir is…_). “[_Masala-hakase…_].”

Still seated in his original position, the slug man participates in the fray. His body shimmering, Nochirasu reaches out to his allies, replenishes their stamina and resolve. Energy constructs bearing Masala’s likeness erupt from inside the dome and tackle Caron. Three of them discharge some sort of electricity from their hands. The serpent god, however, merely shrugs it off as an inconvenience, being more focused on pounding the other constructs into atoms.

The remaining three constructs fire one volley of ki after another. The shots take spherical shape, pulsate with “electricity” not unlike the one just seen. The reptile is overwhelmed. The constructs keep shooting long after a cloud of smoke conceals him from view.

To everyone’s shock, a wave of Chaos Dynamis explodes soon after, vaporizes the remaining constructs. When the smoke clears, Caron is still standing. His body burnt and gashed just about everywhere, the cobra is missing several sizable chunks of flesh and bone at the head, hood, countenance, upper body, and most of the right leg.

(_Caron hisses a laugh, switches to Japanese_). “{Not a bad display, Kosho-kun. However, ‘twould seem thou hast come up short. 'Tis been amusing testing mine-self thus, yet I grow weary of this farce. Let’s see if thine other skills endure as well}.”

Masala opens his eyes. Without a word, the snail man warps outside the dome, much to the worry of the vanquished Hakaishin. Undeterred by all the din and carnage, walking staff in hand, the slug man looks into the reptile deity’s eyes. The ex-Median Deity senses anger, hatred, fear, yet also…

“Thou makest a poor 光の達人 (_Hikari no Tatsujin_), Noch-kun. Thou wouldst be better serv’d by anew becoming a 影の達人 (_Kage no Tatsujin_[36]), as did I.”

“[_Nay; well do I know where such a road leads. Thou art but another thrall of __闇の様相__ (Yami no Yōsō_[37]_), Maru-kun_].”

Caron scowls. The snake deity tears away what little remains of the stole on his neck. Bruised and bare-chested, Amaru manifests a weirdly-shaped metallic object and activates it. A wide scarlet beam erupts, takes the form of a macuahuitl[38], with crimson protrusions resembling prismatic blades on all sides. The serpent deity then yells a heaven-sundering scream, becomes engulfed by piercing turquoise light. When it clears, Caron’s battered flesh shines as an obsidian sun. His reptilian eyes burn an ominous shade of light blue.

Masala coolly takes off and discards his shirt and the scarf around his neck. The mystic then removes the head of his staff with the left hand. A green energy beam awakes from within, as if beckoned by its master. Kosho screams, is engulfed by garnet light. The mystic shimmers like scorching vermilion, his eyes aflame as incensed amethyst.

Masala’s lean, sinewy frame strikes a fighting stance. He’s practically wearing scars and gashes instead of flesh. Nochirasu also sports a heavy, metallic implant where his lower jaw would be, a prosthetic jowl supported by a heavy-looking collar so its owner’s head isn’t stiffly weighed down in a permanent slump.

Caron and the mystic clash. The buzzing and humming of their blades is barely audible among the cacophony of screams, explosions, and blows pervading throughout the abandoned hall.

“Laser-swords…”

The other ex-Destroyers turn to Zevion. The former Lord Mule looks on in awe. Salmer isn’t happy at all.

“[_Leave it to you damn geeks to gush all over this crap_].”

Salmer hears no response. The snail man has withdrawn his psychic connection. The Kualuan’s thoughts are his own once again, yet the fish man is barely able to digest what he's just witnessed.

“[_Damn slug. So this is what you’ve been hiding all this time…_].”

Masala lets Caron begin, effortlessly parries, blocks, and dodges all blows with his laser sword and the other half of his staff. The slug man floats away, beckons the serpent to give chase. The cobra deity obliges. Reptile and mollusk become lost in a monsoon of slashes, punches, kicks, energy blasts. Caron fights aggressively. Every move, block, dodge, parry sustains the onslaught, but Masala is far from worried. One moment he stands his ground. The next, he hops and slides away or toward his opponent with the greatest of ease.

Rather than match the serpent’s moves, the snail lets his foe waste energy, seizes every mistake, every instance of carelessness to strike, creates openings if he can’t find them. When the time is right, Nochirasu discards nearly all restraint. Instead of stalwart defense or fancy footwork, the former Numen resorts to wild jumps and acrobatics. Masala leaps, twirls, gyrates, rolls, whatever it takes to attack or defend.

Meanwhile, Mate gains the upper hand against Chifir and Beinwell. Though gravely wounded, the Shihaishin pushes back his opponents and those among their cohorts stupid enough to challenge him. Lahpeth has Ganlu and Mulaban on the defensive. Bruised and bleeding all over, the samurai removes and discards what little remains of his helmet, mask, and armor, leaving him naked from the waist up.

“{_‘Tis all for naught! These abominations are indifferent onerous on their own, yet together they become near invincible! Meito-sama, Masara-hakase…_}.”

Ganlu unleashes a flurry of bone-crushing punches across Lahpeth’s countenance, while Mulaban does the same to the upper and lower body. Once the pair knocks the shark man into a wall, both deities nod to each other after sharing a microsecond-long look. They cry out in unison.

“WARLORD DEITY JOINT ATTACK! MENG-HALIB ONSLAUGHT!”

Both Numina sprint all across the field, barely leave afterimages in their wake as Ganlu gathers ki into both hands, discharges it in the form of shockwaves, while Mulaban fires a volley of boomerang-shaped energy blasts in all directions.

No time for caution! Lahpeth dodges as much as he can, parries the rest, yet still takes his share of abuse. The attack catches Mate, Chifir, Beinwell, Masala, Caron, and others by surprise, killing several soldiers from both sides and significantly injuring everyone else, save for the vanquished Destroyers, who now find themselves defenseless after the energy dome finally craps out, and Mate’s katana falls in time for its owner to telepathically call it to him.

Mate and the rest jump in front of the disgraced warriors, nod at one another in the blink of an eye.

Mate: “NOW!”

Mate/Masala/Lahpeth: “FINAL ATTACK! NUMINOUS GRAND DEL—”

A sudden energy flash blinded the trio, their soldiers, and the former Hakaishin. They could barely blink, let alone move, by the time it vanished. A nonplussed Beinwell used the respite to heal Chifir, Caron, Mulaban, Ganlu, and their surviving warriors. The shinobi approached her sibling, waved a hand in front of his eyes. They didn't even tremble. A stifling atmosphere pervaded the area as Chifir and company resumed their base forms.

Voice 1 (male): “_A noble effort, Kosuke Makoto, Masaru Kaito, Akarui Nochirasu. Such a shame your loyalties are fatally misplaced_.”

Voice 2 (female): “_I concur, my Lord Stellus_[39]_. It has been eons since I last witnessed such displays of power. If only our issue would prove as worthy_...”

Voice 3 (female): “_Still you harp on about those wastrels, sister? Did we not agree to never speak of them again?_”

Voice 4 (male): “_Rules are meant to be broken, milady Ciechan_[40]_, a lesson you and your sibling would have done well to learn when we reigned_.”

Voice 1: “_We could do without your meddling, Lord Tyskus_[41].”

Voice 5 (male): “_You have done well, Numena of Deletion Chifir_.”

Chifir (_unamused_): “Exalted Ones… why have ye done this? Doubt ye mine competency?”

Voice 5: “_We do not disparage your skill or power, demigoddess, yet we cannot allow any to impinge upon our enterprise. Unlikely as it might seem, our endeavours can still end in failure_.”

Voice 4: “_The All-Hegemon speaks wisdom, as he is wont. Your sibling was a fool to think he could deceive us, Hoshiko_[42]_ Mayumi. Alas, that nobility and conviction should come to such an end!_”

Voice 2: “_Gross flattery notwithstanding, Lord Tyskus is correct. Your diligence and efficacy are noted, Sakujoshin. With Lord Mate and his cohorts out of the way, we can proceed without reservations_.”

Chifir (_bows politely_): “I thank ye, mine Lords. ‘Twill prove easy to secure the cooperation of our fellows once they see the Grand Numen and his ilk for what they are. Lady Sencha has already done most of the necessary groundwork.”

Voice 1: “_Indeed. Project Fell Star is well underway, thanks to your joint efforts. As for the former lesser deities…_”

Chifir: “Project Juoki will proceed on schedule. Our triumph with Agents Perun and Favonius speaks for itself. These candidates shall not disappoint.”

Voice 4: “_It gladdens me when lesser beings see reason_.”

Voice 3: “_Even mortals can prove useful at times_.”

Voice 5: “_We leave the rest to you, Lady Chifir. We shall call upon you soon_.”

Chifir nodded. Once the All-Hegemon fell silent, the atmosphere around the room resumed normalcy. An irked Caron spat to his left, switched to Japanese.

"{Damn'd meddlers! Just when I was to have some fine sport with the lesser gods!}"

"{Stifle thyself, Amaru-kun. Thou shan't want opportunities to attain what thou cravest.}"

"{How much longer am I to wait!? Had I but taken mine prize at the appointed time—}"

"{Hadst thou done thus, thou wouldst likely have killed God of Destruction Geene and every single Kai in the Twelfth Universe. Without them, our enterprise could well have perish'd ere it quit the cradle. Lastly, naught would spare thee the wrath of the Grand Numen the moment he learnt what thou didst. Thank thine auspicious star that officer thwart'd thee. Otherwise, I would have taken thy head had mine brother not done so}."

The serpent god grumbled to himself, muttered something in Nahuatl, then headed off elsewhere. The dragon deity turned to Beinwell.

“Take the candidates to their enclosures. Favonius, Perun, and Enki shall assist thee.” (_To Ganlu and Mulaban_). “Go with him.”

(_Wry Beinwell is…_). “Come now, Lady Chifir. Surely I can handle this sorry lot on my own.”

(_Chifir glowers_). “Do not make it a habit to question me, Beinwell. Unlike thine olden liege lord, I do not take kindly to insolence and insubordination. Consider this thy first and final admonition.”

“I shall be ever mindful, milady.” (_To Mulaban and Ganlu_). “Come along.”

A paralyzed Zumot surveyed the carnage to the best of his ability. No amount of effort could loosen his tongue. The Calamantian couldn’t even scream as the Archangel and the Numina approached them. The late Lord Arak barely managed one last side-glance at his godson as he and the other fallen deities were teleported away…

* * *

[1] Pronounced “say-toh-shin” and “say-shee” (Sources: Google Translate, RomajiDesu).

[2] Pronounced “Dah-ee-sahy-shee” (Source: Google Translate).

[3] Pronounced “nah-moh-nah-kee-moh-noh” (Source: Google Translate).

[4] Pronounced “kok-ee-eh” and “keen-nee-ehn” (Source: Google Translate).

[5] Pronounced “shoo-goh-shin” (Source: Google Translate).

[6] Pronounced “nah-moh-nah-kee-yoh-gehn-shah” (Source: Google Translate).

[7] Pronounced “gen-shee-teh-kee-nah-moh-noh” (Source: Google Translate).

[8] Zunari kabuto (ズナタカブト / ずなたかぶと) = Five-plated combat helmet used by samurai.

Sōmen (ソーメン / そうめん) = Metallic plated mask worn by samurai, which covered the entire face (Source: Wikipedia, RomajiDesu).

[9] 丁髷 (“shawn-mag-geh”) = Traditional Japanese topknot hairstyle for men, favored by samurai from the Edo period onwards (Source: Wikipedia).

[10] Japanese naming customs: surname (Masaru), given name (Kaito).

[11] Pronounced “as-hee-gah-roo” (足軽 / あしがる) = Infantry foot soldier from feudal Japan (Source: Wikipedia).

[12] Pronounced “hah-kah-seh,” from the Japanese 博士 (はかせ) = Doctor (as in high-ranking academic), PhD, etc. (Source: Wikipedia).

[13] Pronounced “Baa-een-weh-roo-kee-yoh” = “Sir Beinwell” (Source, Google Translate, RomajiDesu).

[14] Pronounced “Too-mak Sah-meer.”

[15] Possible V.A.’s: Kari Wahlgren (Tigress, _Kung Fu Panda: Legends of_ _Awesomeness_, et al., yet with a slightly younger, more reptile-like tone), Kellie N. Martin (Roxanne, _A Goofy Movie_, albeit with a more mature reptilian pitch); Brittany Cox (Ingrid Brandl Galatea, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_; again, slightly older, deeper reptilian delivery), Melissa E. Gilbert (Batgirl / Barbara Gordon, _Batman: The Animated Series_), Tara Strong (Batgirl / Barbara Gordon, _Batman: The Killing Joke_).

[16] Possible V.A.’s: Griffin Puatu (Louis,_ Beastars_, with a more rodent-like tone, similar to Meli Grant's voice for Quitela in the _Dragon Ball Super_ English dub. Being older, late teens to early twenties in human years, Muscat would have a somewhat more "grown up" pitch, not too light, but not too deep, either), Benjamin "Ben" I. Diskin (Jack, _Beastars_; same as before), Dante R. Basco (Zuko, _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, albeit with a slightly deeper tone. Again, not too deep, not too light), Dempsey M. Pappion (Rain, _Mortal Kombat 11. _Lather, rinse, repeat), Matthew "Matt" Yang King (Fujin, _Mortal Kombat 11_, slightly younger-sounding).

[17] Pronounced “sah-brat muhs-kat” (Source: Google).

[18] Pronounced “Meh-ree-ah-neh-ahn.” (Source: Wikipedia).

[19] Pronounced “keh-koo-ah-tahn.” Indonesian for “power,” “strength,” “might,” “energy,” “force,” “compel,” etc. (Source: Google Translate).

[20] Pronounced “teh-vahr-kah-lin-oh-tam.” Tamil. (Source: Google Translate).

[21] Batavius = pronounced “bah-tah-vee-oos.”

Mahir para Dewa= pronounced “mah-heer-pah-rah-deh-wah.” Indonesian for “Adept of Devas.”

Sababay = pronounced “Sah-bah-beh” (Source: Google Translate, Pronounce Names ~YouTube~).

[22] Pronounced “kah-mee-noh-kah-koi” (Source: Google Translate).

[23] Possible V.A.’s: Katheryn Kirk (Xenobia, _Lunar: Silver Star Story_), Erin Grey “DeLisle” Van Oosbree (Azula, _Avatar: The Last Airbender / The Legend of Aang_, with a more mature/adult draconic pitch), Rachel Robinson (Judith von Daphnel, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_, deeper pitch).

[24] Pronounced “oh-nee-sahn” (Japanese for “older sister”).

[25] Pronounced “Mah-yoo-mee” (Source: Google Translate).

[26] Pronounced “oh-toh-sahn” (Source: Google Translate).

[27] Pronounced “jah-kah-mah-shee”; insulting Japanese for “shut up!” (Source: Google Translate).

[28] Pronounced “Ah-mah-roo-teuh-cat-lee-pil-tzin” = Amaru, son of Teuhcatl (Nahuatl).

[29] Pronounced “chee-koo-shou”; insulting Japanese for “son of a bitch,” “bastard,” “asshole,” etc. (Source: [www.rypeapp.com/blog/japanese-swear-words](http://www.rypeapp.com/blog/japanese-swear-words)).

[30] Pronounced “koo-soh-koo-rae”; insulting Japanese for “eat shit!,” “screw you!,” “fuck off!,” etc. (Source: [www.rypeapp.com/blog/japanese-swear-words](http://www.rypeapp.com/blog/japanese-swear-words)).

[31] Pronounced “oh-toh-toh-sahn” = “younger brother” (Source: Google Translate).

[32] Pronounced “ee-moh-toh-sahn” = “younger sister” (Source: Google Translate).

[33] Pronounced “yoh-roi-doh-shee”; from the Japanese 鎧通し = thick battle knife used by samurai, made for stabbing through armor, effective in close-quarters fighting (Source: Wikipedia).

[34] Pronounced “wah-kee-zah-shee”; from the Japanese 脇差 = single-edged short sword worn by samurai along with the katana (Source: Wikipedia).

[35] Dao: Pronounced “táu”; from the Chinese 刀 = singled-edged saber.

Tantō: Pronounced “tahn-toh”; from the Japanese 短刀 = knife-like single-bladed combat sword (Source: Wikipedia).

[36] Hikari no Tatsujin (hee-kah-ree-noh-tat-soo-jin) = Adept of Light.

Kage no Tatsujin (kah-geh-noh-tat-soo-jin) = Adept of Shadow (Source: Google Translate, RomajiDesu).

[37] Pronounced “yah-mee-noh-yoh-soh” = Japanese for “Aspect of Dark” (Source, Google Translate, RomajiDesu).

[38] Pronounced “mah-kaw-wee-tel” = ancient Aztec wooden club embedded with sharpened obsidian blades (Source: Wikipedia).

[39] Pronounced “es-teh-lus.”

[40] Pronounced “See-chan” (Source: HowToPronounce.com).

[41] Pronounced “tees-kus” (Source: HowToPronounce.com).

[42] Pronounced “hoh-shi-koh” (Source: forvo.com).


	9. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okocim's recovery is complete, just in time for his past to catch up to him...

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 9: Old Wounds

_The next day…_

Okocim Lech-Sa had just finished breakfast. With the medics’ blessing, the fallen Destroyer God got up and dressed by himself, so he was almost done with packing by the time Anise and Whis arrived.

“Morning, Cim.”

“Hello, Okocim.”

(_Okocim yawns loudly_). “Mornin’”

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Not really, An. I’ve always had a shitty time (pardon my language) when it comes to sleeping. I thought Whis would’ve told you all about it by now.”

(_Weary Whis is…_). “We’ve been so busy lately. I guess it just slipped my mind.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Any news about Lavender and the missing Destroyers?” 

“Not much to report, I’m afraid. Basil and Sidra are beside themselves. Those two have barely slept since the Kaisen incident. They’re out searching whenever they aren’t eating or training. Thankfully, Mojito stepped up and knocked them out cold. They should wake up in a couple of days.”

“What about Lanson and the others?”

“Goku and friends have continued their training in your absence. As for Lanson…” (_Whis sighs_). “Lanson has been acting… irregular as of late."

"Lemme guess: partyin’ all night long, binge-eating, one-night stands galore?” (_Whis nods_). “Gods damn it…”

(_Anise sighs_). “Champa nearly had a nervous breakdown when you got hurt. Vegeta and he have been at each other’s throats almost every day. [_Can’t say I blame the guy, but still…_].”

(_Okocim frowns_). “Lanson…” (_Stands resolute_). “Take us back to Earth, Whis. I need to see my brother.”

The Angel nodded. Their meager luggage in hand, Anise and Okocim each held on to one of Whis’s shoulders. Though the warp to Universe 7 lasted a mere instant, to Okocim it seemed to stretch into eternity. The late Lord Beerus glanced to his side and smiled as the Tien-Shin pupil looked on in utter awe.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen so much color before. You used to watch this all the time?”

“Yeah…” (_Okocim frowns_). “I used to… I’m sorry, Anise, it’s just… I’m worried, y’know? Gods… I’ve been holding everyone back, haven’t I?”

“That’s not true, Okocim.”

“It is, Whis. Right now I’m wondering how the hell am I gonna make up for all that lost time. I can’t even fly right, for fuck’s sake!”

“Don’t worry. We still have plenty of time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Truth be told, I’m… relieved to see you like this.” (_Puzzled Okocim is…_). “Let me rephrase that. You used to fret and worry all the time before your ascension.”

“Yeah…” (_Okocim frowns_). “I was a huge pain in the ass, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t say things like that!”

Okocim and his former instructor turned to Anise. The cat woman scowled, then sighed.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m worried too.”

The Attendant and the felines kept silent for the rest of the trip. It was almost noon by the time they emerged outside of Capsule Corp. It wasn’t long before the group reached the Briefs Mansion, where a surly Vegeta received them.

“You…”

(_Nervous Okocim is…_). “H-Hello, Vegeta. Is Lanson around?”

The Saiyan Prince returned to the kitchen without a word. It wasn’t long before the Sphygian connected the dots.

“I’d better talk to him.”

(_Whis nods_). “Hate to leave you so soon, but I must report back to the Omni-King and Grand Priest. They’ll be most pleased with your recovery.”

“Ok. When you see Zen-Oh, tell him I said thanks, will you? His people did save my sorry ass (pardon my language), after all.”

(_Anise yawns_). “I’d better head back to the Lookout, too. Cumin and Fennel must be worried sick. There’s also all that lost training I gotta make up for.”

“I understand. Thank you for everything, Anise. Same to you, Whis; you guys really came through for me back there.”

(_Whis smiles_). “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, Okocim. Come along, Anise. I’ll drop you off at the Lookout.” 

Once his traveling companions took their leave, an uneasy Okocim followed the Saiyan Prince into the kitchen. The ex-Hakaishin caught the scent of tomatoes, onions, celery, parsley, chicken, and other ingredients. A pot of stew simmered over the stove. Ladle in hand, Vegeta served a plate for himself, signaled for Okocim to do the same.

“Maybe later. I’m not really hungry. Is Champa in his room?”

“Make yourself useful and take his lunch to him while you’re at it.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” 

Vegeta scoffed. It didn’t take Master Zuno to tell he wasn’t in a particularly chatty mood. Warmers and other utensils in hand, Okocim commandeered a serving trolley and took an elevator to the second floor, where his and Lanson’s quarters were. The Sphygian knocked a good three times before he heard a familiar voice.

“W-W-W-Who i-i-i-i-is it-t-t-t-t?”

“It’s me, Lanson. Okocim.”

“C-C-Cim… y-y-you’re o-o-ok…”

“[_Is he really that depressed? I thought he’d be happier about it_]. I’m comin’ in, Champ.”

And so he did; the former God of Destruction’s teeth chattered. The room was cold. The AC must’ve been at full blast, or close to it. Okocim found a downcast Lanson lying on his bed. There were books, magazines, and other items strewn about. The fur of the late Lord Champa had assumed khaki hues mixed with brindled Marengo-clair patterns, yet in Okocim's eyes, his twin now bore a featureless grey interrupted by black-colored marks. Lanson’s eyes were bloodshot. His eyelids were puffier than usual.

“I brought you lunch. Hope you’re hungry.”

“W-W-What a-a-a-are w-w-we h-h-hav-v-v-ing?”

“Some kinda stew. Vegeta made it.”

“V-V-V-V-Vegeta… h-h-h-he m-m-m-must h-h-h-hate m-m-me n-n-now…”

“What makes you say that?” (_Lanson keeps quiet_). “Lanson… you feeling ok?” 

“W-W-What a-a-a-a-b-b-b-bout y-you? Y-Y-You a-a-alright?”

(_Okocim starts serving food_). “If by ‘alright’ you mean if I’m functioning in such a way that I can at least pass for a halfway normal and well-adjusted fella (though Supreme Kai knows I’m anything but), then yeah, I’m alright. Sure, I got stabbed through my gut, nearly got killed by that Displeaser Agent, but I pulled through.”

“D-D-D-Displacer A-A-Agent-t-t-t-t.”

“Come again?”

“T-They’re c-c-c-called-d-d D-Displacer Agents. V-V-Vegeta t-t-t-told m-me a-a-all about it-t-t.”

“My bad.”

Once he served his sibling, Okocim poured another bowl for himself, then invited the ex-Destroyer from Universe 6 to sit at a nearby table. Lanson half-heartedly complied.

“[_What should I do now? Do I just cut the crap and go like ‘I hear you’re acting out again; I want you to stop’? No, he’s never responded well to that. Didn’t stop Mother from doin’ it all the time, though, gods rest her soul. I’d better use tact…_]. 

“C-C-Cim…”

“Yeah, Lan?”

“Y-Y-Y-You s-s-s-sure y-y-y-you’re f-f-f-feelin’ ok?"

“Why do you ask?”

“I-I-It’s j-j-just… I-I-I’m n-n-not u-used t-t-to you be-e-e-eing s-s-so… _nice_. I-I-It’s w-w-weird.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “If it helps you feel any better, I’m not used to you being quiet, or miserable. Can’t say I like the new you or the new me, but then again, I don’t particularly care for the old us, either.”

“M-M-M-Meaning?”

“What the hell happened to us, Champ? We turned into such fucking monsters (pardon my language) when we ascended.”

(_Puzzled Lanson is…_). “M-Monsters? I-I-I-I th-th-think y-y-you’re e-exag-g-g-erat-t-t-ing a little, B-B-B-Bee.”

“What, blowing up planets and committing universe-wide genocide’s no skin off your nose?”

“I-I d-d-didn’t s-say t-that! A-A-A-_All _of us d-d-d-d-did those things, b-bro. M-Me, M-M-Mother, F-F-Father, G-G-Grandfather, G-G-G-G-Grandm-m-m-mother, Liq-q-q-q-quiir, G-G-G-Geene, A-A-Arak, J-Jerez. H-H-Hell, Z-Z-Zen-O-O-Oh o-o-o-once e-e-erased an ent-t-t-tire t-t-timeline j-j-just t-t-to g-g-get r-r-rid of o-one p-p-person.”

“Don’t remind me. I could spend the rest of my life not thinking about that gods-damned Zamasu. ‘Sides, it was just a rhetorical question.” (_Lanson shrugs_). “Wish I could say it was the Energy of Destruction, Father, or whatever, but I can’t. Life would be too damn easy if we could just do whatever the fuck we wanted (pardon my language), blame somebody or somethin’ else, and get away with it.”

(_Coy Lanson is…_). “Y-Y-Y-Y-You ap-p-p-pol-l-logize t-too f-f-freaking m-much, C-Cim. I-I-It’s k-kinda a-an-n-n-n-oying. N-No of-f-f-f-ense.”

“Cim… you haven’t called me that since we were kids.”

“Y-Y-You h-h-hav-v-v-ve’nt c-c-called m-m-me L-L-Lan s-s-since t-t-then, e-e-either.”

(_Okocim smiles_). “Those were the days, bro.” (_Frowns_). “Then training happened; Father happened; Mother happened; Zen-Oh happened; _we _happened, As—etc. We started competing all the time. I was sleeping every other century, you were doing your thing…” (_Facepalms hard_). “Gods, I’m so fucking stupid!”

“H-H-Hey, I f-f-f-fucked u-u-up t-t-too, y-y-y’know.”

“Yeah, but I’m the oldest. I should’ve known better.”

“W-W-W-We’re t-t-t-t-twins, O-O-Okoc-c-c-im. We’re _b-b-b-both _t-t-the old-d-d-dest.”

(_Okocim smiles kindly_). “I know.”

(_Lanson returns the smile_). “D-D-Don’t b-b-b-blame y-y-y-yourself f-for some-th-th-thing that w-w-w-wasn’t y-y-your f-fault… a-at l-l-least n-n-not e-e-entire-l-l-l-y.” (_Frowns_). “D-D-Do y-y-y-y-you s-s-still think-k-k-k a-a-about h-her?”

“Who? You mean Karasa?”

“A-A-Asahi…”

“Lanson, I…” (_Sighs_). “Whis used to prepare such banquets. Can’t remember if I said ‘thank you’ even once.”

“I-I-I m-m-m-miss V-V-V-Vados, t-t-too. I-I-I was s-s-s-such a jerk to h-h-her, t-t-to e-e-e-very-b-b-b-body.”

Okocim steeled himself. It had to be now, while he still had the courage. It took all of two seconds for the Sphygian to choose his next words.

“I saw Whis when I was cooped up at Zen-Oh’s place, Champ. He told me what you’ve been up to lately. You can't go on like this…” (_Lanson keeps quiet_, _eats unenthusiastically_). “Lanson, please. I’m tryin’ my best here, but I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”

The portly Sphygian took some three or four bites without a word, then swallowed hard.

“C-Cim… there’s s-s-s-something I h-h-have to t-t-tell you…”

Lanson swallowed hard, started sweating profusely. Okocim cautiously put his hand on his twin’s shoulder.

“[_That face... it’s déjà vu all over again, alright…_]. It’s ok, Lan. I won’t get angry.”

“P-P-Promise?”

“Promise.”

(_Lanson frowns_). “C-Cim… I… I-I d-d-d-did s-s-something stupid.” (_Notices Okocim looking at him, as if saying “go on”_). “I-I w-was at-t-t this p-p-party… I-I-I m-m-met this g-g-g-girl… h-h-her n-n-name’s B-B-Bess M-M-Moines… m-m-m-me an’ B-B-Bess… w-w-we g-g-g-g-got d-d-d-drunk and… w-w-w-we w-w-w-woke up-p-p-p i-i-in b-b-bed the n-n-next m-m-m-m-m-morning. B-B-Bess c-c-came b-b-b-b-b-b-by the d-d-d-day b-b-before y-y-y-yesterday, s-s-s-said she… she’s p-p-pregnant…”

The former Lord Beerus blinked in utter stupefaction. Okocim made as if to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t heed him. The Sphygian was seconds away from slapping himself hard when he at last managed to say something.

“What!?”

(_Lanson starts to cry_). “S-S-She t-t-told m-m-me s-s-she h-h-hasn’t-t-t-t been w-w-with o-o-other m-m-m-males… C-C-Cim, I… I-I-I’m s-s-s-so… sc-sc-sc-sc-scared…”

The former Lord Champa broke down and sobbed loudly. Okocim was at a loss. Part of him was furious, but at whom? Lanson? That Bess female? 

The older twin kept silent for well over five minutes. The ex-Hakaishin didn’t know what to say, let alone do with himself. Part of him wanted to punch Lanson square in the face, tell him he was an idiot and a fuck-up, get out of there, and never return. 

Okocim shuddered.

"[_I’m turning into Father… dear gods…_].”

What did the other part want? To walk away from it all. After things calmed down a bit, he’d arrange for his twin to leave and start a new life elsewhere. Such disgraceful behavior would not stand! That rotund failure would have to work out his salvation all by his lonesome.

Okocim trembled.

“[_Scratch that. Guess I take more after Mother…_].”

Lanson’s blubbering brought the cat man back to the real world. Okocim was desperate to do something, say something…

“Lanson…”

The once and future Champa looked up, started to cough and hack strenuously. Okocim looked around frantically, but couldn’t find the inhaler and medicine.

“S-S-Stand… t-t-t-there…”

Okocim followed his sibling’s finger. The items lied on top of a nightstand not far from the bed. Having ministered the medicine, the cat man anxiously listened for any signs of improvement. Lanson’s breathing gradually grew less frantic, then eventually calmed. His eyes were far more irritated than before. 

“Lanson, I… you ok?” (_Lanson nods_). “L-Look, I… lunch is getting cold. We should…” (_Sighs_). “Never mind.”

The felines ate in silence. Okocim glanced back at Lanson as he cleared the table.

“Champ… look, I…”

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry, O-O-Okocim. I-I’m s-s-s-so s-s-sorry…”

“I know, bro… look, just take it easy for now. We’ll figure something out. I’ll help any way I can, but you’re gonna have to do your part, too. Know what I mean?” (_Lanson nods_). “Probably should swing by the Lookout, let the others know I’m ok. Plus, there’s like a whole week’s worth of training I gotta catch up on. I’ll be back tonight. We’ll have dinner with Bulma and her family.”

“P-P-P-Promise?”

(_Okocim smiles kindly_). “Cross my heart.”

_Kami’s Lookout, five minutes later…_

Okocim and Vegeta warped into the middle of the courtyard. Blinking in utter puzzlement, the Sphygian knelt, felt the tiles with the palm of his hand.

“Unreal… to think we were at Capsule Corp not two seconds ago. You have to teach me, Vegeta. I just gotta learn that Instant Transmission technique.”

“Talk to Kakarrot. His version should be easier for you to handle.”

“No argument here. I’ll be back tonight. Call me if you need help with Lanson, will you?”

A scoffing Vegeta warped away. Just then, a familiar voice reached Okocim’s ears.

“Lord Beerus!”

Son Goku grabbed the Sphygian in a tight embrace, let go the moment he realized he was stiffling the fallen god.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m so happy to see you. You really had us worried there.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “(Why?).”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Goku. Let’s go. I got a lot of make-up trainin' to do.”

“We’ll get to that. You should say hi to Piccolo and the others first. They’ll all be happy to see you, 'specially since Dende has a guest over.”

“[_A guest?_]. If you insist. No more screwing around after that, ok?”

Teacher and pupil headed inside. It wasn’t long before they reached the Training Hall, where Nappa and Raditz trained with Sidra, Basil, Shu, and the Tien-Shin Trio. The damage from Kaisen’s attack had already been repaired, for the most part. Mr. Popo was nothing, if not efficient.

“Okocim!”

Followed by the others, the waving Anise ran to the grinning Sphygian. Even Fennel seemed relieved to see him, albeit only for a few seconds. The axolotl’s steely glance fell upon the doorway Okocim and Goku had just entered through.

(_Confused Okocim is…_). “Fennel, buddy? Something wrong?”

(_Uneasy Cumin is…_). “D-Didn’t Master Goku tell you, Mr. Beerus?”

“You mean about Dende’s guest? Yeah, I—”

The late Lord Beerus couldn’t continue. Before anyone could react, a gelid wave of spite washed over the Training Hall and everyone in it.

Okocim froze.

It couldn’t be.

Not here.

Not now.

Not _him_.

Piccolo, Dende and Popo made the scene, followed by Whis and two other fellows, both Sphygians. The first was a muscle-gutted male of indeterminate age. His eyes and countenance bore an uncanny likeness to Lanson’s. If Okocim didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed he was looking at an alternate universe version of the late Lord Champa, one that pumped iron and trained with the same zeal the latter stuffed his face. Speaking of faces, a pair of sharpened fangs protruded from the newcomer’s upper jaw, the left one being slightly longer than the right one.

No question about it.

It was him.

The galaxy of scars and gashes all over the visage, arms, pretty much elsewhere in the unclothed upper body was a dead giveaway. Same for the outfit: a jewel-decked metal cuirass resembling platinum, ornate ear studs, bracelets, rings around the middle and index finger of both hands, a fine silken black sash around the waist, Xanadu grey pants, and a crown-like headdress bearing Universe 7’s sigil in the middle. No doubt about it. This fellow was none other than Hakaishin Emeritus Tusker XXXV, son of Lager, of the Noble and Distinguished House of Artois.

“Father…”

Goku and the other Z-Fighters exchanged perplexed responses to the tune of “_that’s_ Beerus’s father!?,” “I don’t believe it!” “what’s the matter with Beerus?,” the usual. Okocim began to sweat like he’d been training nonstop for the past couple of eons. His heartbeat all over the place, the former Lord Beerus frantically looked around.

Anise.

Had Tusker seen her? Would his father—? 

Otherwise blind and deaf to the world around him, Okocim grabbed Anise by the wrist of her left arm and took off.

“O-Okocim!?”

Run!

Didn’t matter where.

Run!

Didn’t matter how far.

Run!

Her life depended on it.

“Stop right there, fuck-up!”

“Lord Tusker!”

The voices of Whis and the older male echoed throughout the Training Hall. Okocim stiffened, released the female’s arm, then gasped. His fingernails were tainted a damp crimson. Anise’s blood trickled down to the floor. She was about to untie the scarf around her head, yet changed plans when a speedy Fennel gave her a clean handkerchief. The amphibian glowered at the fallen god, made to attack Okocim, yet the cat woman held him back.

“Fennel, don’t! It was an accident!”

The youngest Tien-Shin pupil made what sounded like a growl, then relented. A horrified Okocim stared at his own hands like they belonged to someone else.

They were red.

They were stained.

He had spilled blood once again.

Innocent blood.

_Once a Destroyer, always a Destroyer_.

Asahi…

Karasa…

Sekhmet…

House Artois…

House Stellus…

Anise…

_You little fuck up!_

_Why the fuck are you still alive!?_

_You are soft, stupid, and weak!_

_You’re a damn fool, like the old man!_

_All those eons, all that work and sacrifice…_

** _ This _ ** _ is what I have to show for it!?_

_THIS!?_

Okocim Lech-Sa, formerly Beerus the Destroyer, tried to speak. Fearful and trembling, he barely uttered a pitiful mewl before his tears fell to the ground and a rancid stench filled the Training Hall. Another accident. The dampness in his crotch told the Sphygian thus as he turned tail, ran deeper into the citadel as fast as his legs would carry him.

“LORD BEERUS!”

Was that Goku calling out to him? Did the damn monkey decide enough was enough and set out to kill himself a scrawny-ass cat?

"Figures. All those eons, and you’re still a fucking coward.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH, LORD TUSKER!” 

“[_Anise, Asahi, Karasa… I’m sorry…_].”

_Twenty minutes later…_

Okocim had no idea how he reached his room. Naked save for a fresh pair of boxer shorts, the Sphygian sat in his bed.

“[_Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid! The fuck was I thinking, agreeing to train with Goku!? Anise… gods, I’m… I’m such a fucking coward…_].”

The feline sighed. His divinity was a thing of the past, yet the wicked principle still slumbered in his very flesh and bone.

_Once a Destroyer, always a Destroyer_.

The former God of Destruction looked upon his hands. They were clean one minute, stained the next, then clean again, and so forth. Was there really something wrong with him, or was the Omni-King playing yet another sick joke on somebody he just couldn’t hate enough?

Who could he ask for help?

Lanson? He already had a lot on his plate, with a kid on the way and whatnot.

Bulma? All the antidepressants and psychiatry sessions in the world wouldn’t do jack shit now.

Dende? Didn’t take Grand Priest to tell this was beyond his abilities.

King Kai? Maybe in a coupla eons, after he’d forgotten all about being dead and getting his planet blown up over a damn videogame.

Vegeta? Maybe next time, when Okocim felt in the mood for assisted suicide.

Whis? Not even he could put that brute in his place.

Grand Priest? See “assisted suicide.”

Zen-Oh? As above, so below.

Old Kai? Wasn't he busy ogling females or going through another stack of Tijuana bibles? Plus, he probably was still sore over that whole getting-trapped-inside-a-magic-sword-for-gods-know-how-long deal.

Shin? Not counting the Potara earrings, since when had _he_ been useful for anything?

Goku? He was only the greatest living warrior in the history of the Multiverse. Unless he’d been secretly doubling as a miracle worker all this time, he wouldn’t be of much help, either.

“Grandfather…”

Okocim’s mind got to work. Blanton Bourbon-Sa, formerly God of Destruction Lager XLVIII, son of Woodford, of House Artois. Funny the Sphygian should have nothing but fond memories of him. The old cat could be an authoritarian like his own son and as stern as his daughter-in-law, yet even at his worst he was a sweet ol’ cuddlebug compared to Afsnath and Tusker at their best. 

Okocim got lost down memory lane. He’d last seen his grandfather eons ago, when Tusker was still Hakaishin of Universe 7, and he himself was barely nine or ten human years old. Blanton would arrive at the front gate of Castle Artois in Sekhmet. More often than not, he’d come bearing gifts and a smile that could light up the whole damn Multiverse. Okocim was guaranteed to have a good day whenever he was around. Tusker’s servants wouldn’t dare hound the boy on their master’s behalf. All it took was a coupla Hakais from Lord Lager to get the point across. 

Strangely enough, Blanton had a cordial, even warm relationship with Brulle Féverte-Se, his son Lech’s wife from the rival House Marnier, yet the same could not be said for Lech himself. The late Lord Beerus sighed. If he’d had a zenni for every time Tusker and his father argued, he wouldn’t have to work a single day in his life. Same applied to Afsnath and her estranged hubby.

So many times had Okocim wanted to ask Lord Tusker what things were like when _he_ was a child. He may’ve been crazy, but he definitely wasn’t stupid. Still, the cat boy would gladly put up with day-long training sessions, all the yelling and insults in the world, if he could just catch a glimpse of Grandfather Blanton at Castle Artois.

Then one day it just stopped. No explanation. Lager wasn’t seen or heard of for a week, two, three, four, a month, another, another…

Only one person could’ve known what was going on.

(_Translated from Okocim and family’s native language_[1]). “{Father? Why hasn’t Grandfather come to visit us? It’s been so long since—}.”

(_Tusker barely spares a glance_). “{None of your business. See to your lessons, boy}.”

That had been it. Okocim knew better than to belabor the point, so he went on with his life till he next saw Afsnath, Vados, and Lanson on leave from Universe 6. The lad mustered his courage anew.

(_Mournful Afsnath is…_). “{Little one… your grandfather, he… he’s gone, Okocim[2].}”

“{Gone where?}.”

(_Irritated Tusker is…_). “{He’s dead. He had many enemies}.”

“{What!? When did it happen!?}.”

“{Nothing to busy yourself with, boy. Stop being a pest}.”

“{Lech!}.”

Tusker walked away with Afsnath hot on his heels, ready to start yet another argument as Vados and Whis ushered Okocim and Lanson out of the room. Millions of years after the fact, Okocim could recite most of them _verbatim_, yet this one in particular was seared into his memory.

“{How dare you!? The boy lost someone he loved dearly! You’re too hard on him and Lanson!}.”

“{_I’m_ too hard on them!? Well, somebody has to be, you weak-hearted female! You keep rushing over to kiss them every time they scrape their damn knees or something! Remember who we are!}.”

“{Call me weak again and I’ll gouge your eyes out! I know who we are! You, however, seem to have forgotten who _you_ are!}.”

(_Solemn Tusker is…_). “{I am Tusker, son of Lager, of House Artois, God of Destruction of the Seventh Universe by the will of Zen-Oh All-Sovereign. I—}.”

“{Spare the gods-damned protocol! Right now you are not the Hakaishin of Universe 7: you are the father of these children! Remember that!}.”

“{We’ve had this discussion far too many times, Brulle. You’re too damn emotional. You need to stop thinking like a mother and train the other one like I’m training this brat. Otherwise, they’re both gonna be fuck-ups for the rest of their bloody lives!}.”

“{His name is Lanson, and he’s your son as much as Okocim is mine! Also, _I’m _too emotional!? You explode at them every time they do something you don’t like! Keep that up and you won’t have to worry about our sons being fuck-ups ‘coz there won’t be anything left for you to fuck up!}.”

(_Tusker grunts_). “{You have exactly one minute to get out of my fucking face before I claw yours to shreds}.”

“{You wouldn’t dare}.”

“{I can be pretty damn cruel when I want to be. We’ve been married far too long for you not to know that. Then again, you know plenty about it yourself}.”

(_Afsnath hisses_). “{You know what, Lech? I'm glad Blanton is gone. If nothing else, he won’t have to see the absolute turd of a male you have become}.”

“{Really, now? Wonder what Nodper would think if she could’ve seen it, how her only daughter would turn into a man-hating skag with a black hole where her heart should be}.”

“{Don’t talk to me about my mother or my heart! Yours shriveled up and died eons ago, assuming you ever had one}.”

“{I did. You ripped it outta me}.”

“{Don’t pretend you’re hurt about that. You and I know better. You certainly haven’t curbed _your_ dalliances}.” (_Tusker rolls his eyes_). “{I’ll tell you one last thing. I am furious at you for a great many reasons, yet _that_ is the least of them}.”

(_Tusker yawns_). “{You done with your preachin', woman? I’ve got better things to do than listen to whiny brats}.”

(_Afsnath growls_). “{You won’t have to. Not for much longer}.” (_Removes her wedding band, tosses it to the floor_). “{We are done and over with, Lech Blanton-Sa. I’ve reached an agreement with the Omni-King and the Grand Priest. Once Lanson ascends, I will divorce you}.”

(_Tusker laughs uproariously_). “{‘Once Lanson ascends…’ Oh Brulle, you and that wild imagination of yours!”}. (_Brief pause_). “{You’re serious… you know what that means, don’t you?}.”

“{All beings die sooner or later. Gods are no exception. If relinquishing my immortality, godhood, and titles is what it takes to get you out of my life, that's a price I'm willing to pay}.”

"{Brulle… do you realize what you're doing?}."

(_Afsnath chuckles dismissively_). "{What's this? Tusker, son of Lager, is concerned? For someone _other_ than himself? I guess some good did come out of this marriage, after all." (_Glowers menacingly_). "A pity it doesn't even begin to compensate for all that wasted time and energy...}."

“{Yeah, like being married to you was such a fucking joyride! You have any idea how much bullshit I’ve had to put up with from you _and_ your lousy house, Brulle!? At this point, I’ll consider myself lucky if that hunk of lard, that so-called other son of mine, _doesn’t_ grow up to be an immature bitch with entitlement issues, like his mother!}.”

“{I could say the same about Okocim and you. Gods forgive me, but I would sooner see him dead than take after you. I’m tired, Lech. Sick and tired. I could fill the Infinite Library with all the reasons why I hate you. Even so, I'm willing to look past all of that, except for what you have done to our sons… and _that_}.” (_Tusker scowls_). “{I will never forgive you. Blanton himself wouldn’t}.”

“{Leave my father out of this. You don’t deserve to speak his name, just like you don’t deserve to speak Sappora's}.”

“{Her name is Asahi! She was my daughter too, you vicious, brutish, two-faced, self-absorbed, self-pitying, son-devouring, kin-slaying, pathetic excuse for a male! I’m glad Asahi perished before you twisted her into your own image and likeness! If only _he_ had been as—}.”

A knock on the door. Who could it be? Vegeta, ready to evict Okocim from the world of the living with a well-placed Galick Gun? Tien, charging up a Tri-Beam to reduce the damn cat to a crater the size of Earth’s Moon? Goku, all set to disintegrate him with a Kamehameha, or otherwise keep gushing rainbows and spewing sugarplum fairies out of that empty head of his? Bulma, heading a SWAT team to lock him up and throw away the key? 

The door opened as the Sphygian turned. Outside stood…

“Anise…”

“Hey…”

The cat woman had a bandage on the side where Okocim scratched her. Rather than angry, she looked… worried? The former deity stood up. He was about to ask what she was doing there, then remembered something.

(_Okocim turns beet-red, anxiously covers up_). “Oh gods, I-I-I’m _so_ sorry! L-L-Lemme put on some pants and…”

“Okocim… it’s ok…”

The Tien-Shin pupil embraced the fallen Hakaishin. The artist formerly known as Beerus briefly lost all notion of space and time. A hug? From a female? Those had been few and far between throughout his life. Now, however, this virtual stranger, whom _he _had injured, was giving him one… while he was practically naked.

“[_Supreme-Kai’s-sake-stay-put-stay-put-stay-put-don’t-make-this-worse-oh-gods-oh-gods-oh-gods-I’m-so-going-to-Hell-for-this!_].”

“[_Wow… he’s so warm and velvety…_]. It was an accident. I know that…” (_Anise lets go_). “…but that’s not what I’m here for. I want to know what happened out there, when we met Tusker. You were sweating and crying. You kept staring at your hands like they had blood on them.”

(_Okocim frowns_). “They _did_ have blood on them. Yours.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You also forgot the part where I, a grown-ass cat, pissed myself in front of everybody.”

“I won’t judge you for that…” (_Frowns_). “I don’t have the right.”

Okocim nearly gasped.

“Anise… d-don’t tell me _you_…” (_Anise nods_). “H-How? Why? Hold on a sec.” 

At last the Sphygian had the presence of mind to put on some pants, a t-shirt, and a pair of sandals. He then sat on the bed alongside the Tien-Shin pupil, who fortunately had left the door open. Anise looked on ahead, almost like she could see the events unfold all over again.

“I don’t remember much about my early life. My parents must’ve died when I was a cub; either that, or they abandoned me. I lived in an orphanage at Villa Lozada, a small bordertown in the mountains. The nuns who took us in gave us the town’s name, “Lozada,” as a surname till we got adopted or were old enough to live on our own. We were very poor. The nuns were kind for the most part, but very strict. They wouldn’t let us leave the table till we’d eaten every last piece of rice, speck of bread, know what I mean? I still remember what Sister Ana used to tell us: “_Cómanselo todo,_ _niños. Es pecado desperdiciar comida_.” (_Okocim stares in confusion_). “Spanish. Roughly translated, it means “clean up your plate, kids. It’s a sin to waste food.” Anyhow, I was around five years old when a human couple adopted me. They groomed me to be an assassin for Don Ruggiero, a crime boss who was a big deal ten or eleven years ago.” (_Anise shudders_). “The day I turned fourteen, the Don had his goons take me to some place deep in a forest, where some creepy old man with long white hair was supposed to “do some work” on me.” (_Anise’s eyes grow humid. Tears begin to fall_). “He was… stitching me by the time I woke up. My whole body… it hurt like hell. I could see pieces of my own flesh. There was blood everywhere. The old man said something. I didn’t catch the exact words, but it was… something like “The procedure was a success. I’ll be expecting full payment by tomorrow night.”

Anise got up, showed the Sphygian her prosthetic arm and tail. Okocim was practically sweating buckets by now. 

After that I went back to the Don, and it was business as usual for the next five years. One night, I was ordered to kill a rival crime boss who lived deeper within the mountains. Somebody tipped off my target. His men ambushed me, shot me with machine guns till they ran out of bullets, then threw me in a ditch somewhere. I would’ve died if one of Master Tien’s students hadn’t found me and given me a Senzu bean right there and then." 

He took me to the Tien-Shin Dojo, where I met Master Tien. He came to visit me in the sick room and offered me a place to stay, no questions asked. All he wanted in exchange was help with chores.” (_Sighs_). “He didn’t know about me. He would’ve thrown me out if he had. Anyone else would have. But I… I couldn’t live with myself. I had nightmares about the Don, the people I killed, the operation. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Tien who I was, what I’d been trained to do, how I hated myself for it. I was expecting him to kill me, or at least throw me out. He… I’ll never forget what he said…” (_Tien’s voice briefly takes over the flashback_). “It’s a good thing you regret what you did, Anise, but hating yourself is no way to live. Stay here and let us train you. Even if you can’t undo all those crimes, you can still become someone different, someone who protects life instead of taking it.”

I met Fennel and Cumin about a year later. Believe it or not, they were in even worse shape when we took them to Capsule Corp. We were all missing limbs and had scars all over our bodies. Mrs. Briefs designed better prostheses for us and agreed to cover our treatment at the Medical Center. She did some research, and it turns out the three of us were part of an illegal research project called Operation Sānyuán, under the care of Dr. Gero and some old colleagues of his.”

(_Okocim shudders_). “I’ve heard of Gero. He created Piccolo’s student, Android 21, turned 17 and 18 into… well, androids.”

“He did the same to me. Those colleagues I just mentioned, they were... Cumin's parents and... Fennel's father." (_Weeps_). "The three of us, we're... prototypes. Remember that old saying, “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”? I don’t know what Gero and company had in mind, and to be honest, I don’t care, but there’s gotta be a reason why they made us… like this.”

Anise removed a hearing aid from her right ear. Okocim nearly gasped.

“You’re… deaf?” (_Ponders briefly_). “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” That means… Cumin is blind, and Fennel…”

“…is mute. Or at least he was supposed to be.” (_Realizes something_). “Okocim? Are you alright?”

“Bastard…”

“Cim?”

“Bastard… THAT FUCKING BASTARD!” (_Spooked Anise is…_). “Sorry, sorry! My temper gets the better of me sometimes. Won’t happen again. It’s just…” (_Sighs_). “It’s all my fault.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I was the God of Destruction of this Universe.” (_Starts crying_). “I should’ve stopped those sons of bitches, made sure they wouldn’t hurt you guys. Gods, I’m such a piece of—”

“OKOCIM, ENOUGH!"

The Sphygian nearly jumped. A few decibels more, and the scream could’ve been heard all the way on Sekhmet.

“I’m sorry. I… I can’t stand hearing you speak that way about yourself." (_Clears throat_). "Did you know about this when you were a god?"

(_Okocim frowns_). "No. If I had, I... I would've stopped it... I think... no... I _definitely_ would have. What Gero and the rest did to you guys... it's unforgivable. I'm sorry, Anise. You have every right in the world to hate me. You wouldn't have gone through that if I hadn't been so selfish, so... stupid."

"I could say the same for myself." (_Anise frowns_). "If only I'd been braver... if I'd known then what I know now... I would've run away from the orphanage... escaped from the Don... not gone into that forest... who knows? Maybe I wouldn't have killed so many innocent people..."

"There's no way to know for certain. Who's to say you wouldn't have stayed, died trying to escape, or whatever? Plus, had any of those things happened... we might not have met."

"Cim... that's exactly what I came here to tell you. You’re not alone in this. Cume, Fenn, me, we’ve all done terrible things.”

“Anise… the things I used to do were more than just terrible. Didn’t Tien tell you what Gods of Destruction do?”

“He once said they’re like the Grim Reapers of the Multiverse. Just as the Kais have the power to create, they have the power to destroy. They’re supposed to keep balance in the Universe so there’s not too much Creation or too much Destruction.”

(_Okocim sighs_). "He didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Anise... I... I pretty much crapped and pissed all over that balance the whole time I was a Destroyer. I hardly ever did my job, and whenever I did, I used to do whatever the fuck (pardon my language) I wanted, however I wanted. I went overboard pretty much all the time, snuffed out billions of lives without a second thought, or allowed others to do it for me. Gods know how any of you guys were even born after me and my family let Frieza and others like him run amok for eons. Hell, _I_ am the reason why Universe 7 had to fight in the Tournament of Power! Didn't you know that already?”

“No, but I did know about how you almost destroyed Earth ‘coz Buu wouldn’t let you have a pudding cup, how you slapped Mrs. Briefs, blew up her time machine…” (_Chuckles_). “…and how you scared Shenron shitless that time Goku asked him about the Super Saiyan God. Boy, what I’d give to see that!” 

(_Astonished Okocim is…_). “You know all that stuff, and you… you don’t hate me?”

“Why would anybody hate you?”

“_Hello_! You just explained every reason why! I-I am a _monster_, Anise!”

“Just like me. Just like Fenn and Cume.”

“All you guys did was kill people!”

“You say it like it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I-I didn’t say it wasn’t! Anise, I… I wiped out entire civilizations, planets, galaxies, solar systems, in a matter of _seconds_! I even used to erase folks from existence 'coz they annoyed or offended me!”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“It was wrong! No, it was _fucking_ wrong! (pardon my language). Worst part is, I did it because I let myself become a stuck-up jerk with entitlement issues, which _wouldn’t_ have happened if I’d just manned the fuck up and told Father “No, old man, I don’t want to be God of Destruction, so you can just take this fucking job and shove it down your fucking asshole!” He probably wouldn’t have listened anyways, but still… I should’ve … I should’ve...”

Okocim wept bitterly, briefly stiffened when Anise gently ran the fingers of her left hand through his scalpel. 

“Would you undo it all if you had the chance?”

“_Of course_! But it’d take something massive, like the Super Dragon Balls. I dunno if Tien already told you, An, but Zen-Oh, my old boss, he doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m willing to bet he won’t even let me look at them, that’s how much he hates me. Not that I blame ‘im. I’ve made myself real easy to hate.” (_Sighs, wipes his tears away_). “You guys know all this, and you still want to be in the same universe with me?” 

“I can’t speak for Master Tien or the others, but I’d like to do more than just be in the same universe with you… know what I mean?”

Anise’s visage turned devil-red. Okocim’s lower jaw dropped the lowest it had in over a thousand years.

“You’re kidding...”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“A-Am I being pranked? Anise… no offense, but are you _absolutely_ sure your hearing aid’s working right?”

"Positive.”

“Did you _really_ listen to everything I’ve been saying?”

“Every last word.”

“I… I don’t get it. How... how can you _not_ hate me? You just heard me explain what kind of a monster I am.”

“_Was_. Big difference.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You hate yourself for what you did. I can tell that much. Believe it or not, me, Cume, Fenn, we feel like that at least some of the time.”

“You shouldn’t! You guys are freaking saints compared to me!”

“'Compared.' That's the magic word. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Okocim, but most of the people we know were once evil themselves. Krillin hated Goku when they were kids. Yamcha used to be a bandit. Vegeta was a galactic mercenary with more genocides under his belt than even _he_ cares to count. Piccolo is the reincarnation of a “Demon King” who once took over the entire world, even managed to kill Goku himself at one point. Raditz and Nappa tried to destroy Earth. Nappa and Vegeta killed Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Piccolo, and Raditz one time. 21 (or Cell, as they once called him) was created to kill Goku and pretty much everyone and everything else on Earth, like 17 and 18. Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yamcha parted ways with Goku and the rest after Vegeta, Raditz, and Nappa turned good. They turned up years later, under Babidi's control, helped him free Majin Buu, same as Gohan and Vegeta. Heck, Tien and Chiaotzu themselves used to scam people back in the old days. They, Cume, Fenn, me, we were all like that... till something changed us. Wanna know what that was?" (_Okocim nods timidly_). "We met somebody who helped us realize we could become better, that we didn’t have to stay the way we were, hating ourselves for what we were, what we did. That’s exactly what _you_ need right now. Lucky for you, you happen to be in the right place.”

Okocim stared back in awe. His tears fell again, yet there was something different about them by the time he and the former assassin embraced one another.

“Anise… nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before. Granted, I didn’t really give them any reason to, but still… thank you… thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Just remember what Mrs. Briefs said.”

“I gotta take things one day at a time. I won’t forget.”

“Actually, it ran more to the tune of 'I could dress everyone in the entire country with all the clothes and shoes that damn cat’s lost or damaged.' Try not to do that anymore, will you?”

(_Okocim chuckles_). “Like I said, one day at a time.”

“We should probably head down. We stay here, everybody's gonna start thinking we’re… y’know.”

“Right behind you.”

“Uh, Cim? You can let go now.”

(_Okocim grins sheepishly_). “O-oh, r-right. My bad.”

With that, the fallen Hakaishin and the Tien-Shin pupil quit the room…

* * *

[1] A combination of Coptic, Egyptian Arabic, Aramaic, and other Semitic languages; close-to-modern Arabic is prevalent.

[2] Possible V.A.’s: Colleen Wheeler (Mystique / Raven Darkholme, _X-Men Evolution_), Kirsten Williamson (Storm / Ororo Munro, _X-Men Evolution_), Marina Sirtis (Demona / Dominique Destine, _Gargoyles_), Mara Junot (Sindel, _Mortal Kombat 11_), Jen Cohn (Ursa, _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, but with an older, slightly deeper, borderline spiteful pitch).


	10. Yawn of the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S%^t hits the proverbial fan back at the Void Realm...
> 
> Tenth chapter! Didn't think I'd make it this far. My thanks to all my readers and commenters.

Dragon Ball Super: Twilight of Gods I, by Chronos-X

Saga I: **On Mortality and Consequences**

Book One: **Beerus**

Chapter 10: Yawn of the Void

_The Void Realm…_

When Salmer next opened his eyes, Zumot and the other fallen Hakaishin were nowhere in sight, same as Beinwell, Mulaban, Mate, and his party. The carnage of the Audience Hall behind them, Ganlu grabbed the Kualuan and hoisted him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

Furious as he was, the late Lord Geene could barely blink while the imperial lion deity bore him through a series of labyrinthine corridors and torch-lit passageways. Almost an hour into the journey, Ganlu opened a heavy oaken door. Within the cramped cell on the other side, a strange-looking bipedal being sat in a lotus position. 

“Hail, Agent Enki. Commandments from Lady Sencha. She would have thee mentor this fallen man-at-arms so as restore unto him his olden prowess.”

(_Enki sighs_). “I’m supposed to train this guy in Κύμα των Θεών, right? (_Ganlu keeps quiet_). “Is he injured?” (_Ganlu shakes his head_). “Set him down on my cot. I’ll see to him after my meditation[1].” (_Ganlu complies, leaves_). “Ganlu… big guy has such a way with words, doesn’t he?”

Enki received no response. Without further ado, the Agent levitated back to his feet and headed to the cot. The Kualuan spoke. Only incoherent grunts and noises came out of his maw.

“They Shinku’d you, didn’t they?” (_Enki ponders briefly_). “Hold on a sec.”

The Agent sat in the air with his legs crossed, joined his hands as if in prayer. Light grayish ki shone from within him, gently washed over his guest for a good minute and a half. 

Salmer’s head ached like he’d just wolfed down too much of something cold. Though the sensation only lasted for a moment, it left him stunned for a while, barely conscious to hear Enki’s words, who'd fallen down on his rear by the time the disgraced god managed to speak. 

(_Enki grunts, gets back up_). “Damn… you felt that too, didn’t you? Sorry about that.”

“[_Who the fuck’re you!? Where’re the others!?_].”

“Others? No idea what you’re talking about, pal. Honest. As for your first question, I am Therian Agent 0429, codename Enki. If Sencha wants me to train you, it means you have the Kýma.”

“[_The fuck’s “Kýma”? Is it like that Chikara stuff?_].”

“Oh, so you’ve met Sage Nochirasu. Yeah, pretty much.”

Salmer squinted his eyes to compensate for the sparse illumination. If the math Martinu taught him still applied, Enki likely measured a good five feet tall, give or take six or seven inches. He had no way to know for sure, as the guy stood with a slight hunch caused by his body structure. 

Try as he might, the fallen Destroyer God couldn’t place his host’s species. Enki had some telltale Kualuan features, particularly the gills around his neck and the fins doubling as ears, yet otherwise resembled some sort of aquatic draconic being. Several parts of his body were covered by black and chestnut-hued plumage. If no feathers were present, the spot would be occupied by scaled, clammy skin of hybrid thistle, teal, and bright yellow pigmentation. Additionally, the Agent had a minute, sharp beak, seemingly disproportionate to an oversized mouth that took over most of the countenance whenever he spoke or gestured. The younger male also bore a handful of feathery tufts around both cheeks and at the top of the head, a perfect compliment to his ornithological webbed hands. 

There was something unsettling about Enki’s semi-draconic maw. Along with that weird beak and mouth combo, it reminded Salmer of a bird-like countenance from a certain angle, yet recalled that of a frog or a similar amphibian from others. The former Hakaishin also noticed a prominent pair of snake fangs hanging from the upper jaw, complimented by what looked like a furled cobra hood. The rest of the Agent’s teeth were serrated. Some resembled those of a shark, while others took more after a barracuda’s. 

Enki’s large, bulging eyes straddled the amphibian and reptilian realms. The scleras bore a bright yellow tint, their black slitted irises dilated into a near-circular shape due to poor lighting. His bare tridactyl, webbed feet were clearly plantigrade. Fowl-like resemblance notwithstanding, they seemed more suited for a salamander or some other amphibious lifeform. Along with such characteristics, widespread bulging arteries and veins conferred an ominous air of sickness upon the Agent, further enhanced by slightly droopy eyelids and poorly healed scars at the visage and presumably elsewhere. 

As for clothing, Enki sported simple bluish-grey and cream-colored short robes and pants, along with a rather worn, otherwise unremarkable dark brown leather tabard. He also wore a thick belt around his waist, the telltale laser-sword hilt clipped to the left.

“Had your fill by now?”

“[_Fuck’re you talkin’ about?_].”

“You’ve been gawking at me for almost six minutes now.” (_Smiles playfully_). “If I didn’t know better, I’d start thinking you have a thing for me.”

(_Salmer scowls_). “[_Don’t you believe it, fagg—!_].”

His countenance a-glower, Enki’s right hand closed in as if it were grasping something. His thoughts still echoing through his and the Agent’s minds, Salmer gasped after his levitating body was seized by an invisible something. The former Lord Geene began to hack and rasp with escalating intensity, vainly gripped at his throat trying to break free, futilely kicked with his legs to drop back to the ground. 

After what felt like a quarter past eternity, Enki relaxed his grip, allowed his would-be victim to fall, cough his way back to the living world.

(_Stern Enki is…_). “Let’s establish some ground rules. Rule 1: Show me respect, or I’ll teach you respect. You’ve been warned.” (_Salmer resumes normal breathing_). “Sweet technique Kocha taught me. Don’t quite remember what she called it. Roughly translates to ‘Crushing Grip.’ Handy knowledge to keep in the back of your mind next time you feel like being an asshole.”

(_Salmer gently rubs his neck with the right hand_). “[_Duly… noted…_].”

(_Enki thinks things over_). “Look, let’s not start off on the wrong foot here, bud. I understand what you’re going through. You’re stuck in this hellhole with a bunch of overpowered creeps who’ll tear you to bloody chunks with the same ease most people say ‘good morning’ with. Love it or hate it, this is your life now. Which brings us to Rule 2: obey whatever orders you’re given." (_Salmer grunts_). 

"Here’s a crash course on the chain of command around here. Chifir’s top dragon now. What she says goes; no ifs, ands, or buts. Right after comes Beinwell, Mate’s former right-hand guy. He only accepts orders from Chifir herself, so by obeying him, you obey her. No-brainer, right? Following Beinwell, you have Sencha. Her word is law till Chifir or her flunkies say otherwise. If Chifir and Sencha aren’t around, that means Kocha's in control… Sencha’s control, that is.” (_Enki f__rowns_). 

“Last and definitely least, there’s Caron.” (_Scowls_). “He’ll be training you sooner or later, so it’s only fair I warn you: fight to win. Make every move as if it were your very last. When you can maim, maim. If you can go for the kill, do it. No matter what you do, no matter how strong you become… damn snake… he’ll chew you up… spit you out.” (_Swallows hard, voice starts breaking at intervals_). “You’ll be near-death… far too many times to count… he… he won’t let you die. When he’s done mopping the floor with you, you’ll… service him. You… have no… say in the matter. He’ll…” (_Starts crying_). “I-I-I’m sorry…”

Salmer poorly dissembled his disgust. He was seconds away from vomiting by the time he regained his composure.

(_Scowling Salmer is…_). “[_Give it to me straight. Damn snake’s been raping you, hasn’t he? And he’s gonna do the same to me and the others?_].” (_Enki nods_). “[_Like hell he will! I’ll—_].”

“You’ll what!? Neuter him!? Cut off his junk and feed it to him!? You think we haven’t tried!?” (_Sighs_). “He’s done it to pretty much everybody. That includes me, Favonius, Perun, even Mulaban and Ganlu. You won’t have to put much work into hurting Caron, by the way. Sick fuck enjoys receiving pain as much as giving it. I don’t mind telling you, I’d rather deal with just about anybody but him. Chifir and the rest can be reasoned with. Caron, on the other hand—”

The cell door suddenly opened. Mulaban let himself in, followed by a bound Zumot al-Massaya. The Calamantian was wearing a strange-looking collar around his neck. The being once named Arak seemed exhausted, yet otherwise was none the worse for wear when the Numen gently tugged at his chains to bid him enter.

“Hail, Enki. Orders. Lady Sencha.” (_Points at Zumot, unlocks his bindings_). “Train.” (_Points at Salmer_). “Him, too. Is all.”

“I see. Sencha’s readying the procedure again, isn’t she?”

“Know not.” (_Sighs sadly_). “Obey.”

Having bowed, the Warlord Deity took his leave. Zumot turned to his godson.

“Are you alright, Salmer?”

“[_I’ll live. What about you?_].” 

(_Zumot yawns_). “I’m wiped out. Sencha's cronies ran me through one damn test after another. They drew blood, tissue samples, gods know what else. She seems to have taken an interest in me, for some reason.” (_Touches collar_). “First thing those bastards did was clasp this thing to my neck. Helps them keep track of me. On the plus side, it does away with my… odor problem.” (_Notices Enki_). “O-Oh, my apologies! I’m Zumot al-Massaya. And who might you be?”

(_Enki smiles_). “Name’s Enki. Guess you’ll be my student, too.” (_Turns to Salmer_). “I don't know your name yet."

“[_Salmer Khaitan_].”

Hearing that name had a strange effect on Enki. Though only for a few seconds, the Agent grimaced like he was in pain, much to his cellmates' wonderment.

(_Concerned Zumot is…_). “Are you alright?”

“Ow… I’m fine. Felt strange for a moment, s’all. That sorta thing ain’t uncommon in this hellhole, unfortunately.” (_Sighs_). “Sit down in front of me, legs crossed.” (_Zumot complies_). “Can you move, Salmer?” 

The Kualuan reached Zumot’s side without incident. Once Salmer joined his godfather, Enki sat in the same manner. Eyes shut, the Agent beckoned his energy forth again, bade it wash over the vanquished Destroyers. Though Zumot felt at ease, Salmer was clearly discomfited.

Enki (_telepathically_): “[_Don’t be afraid. You’re hearing my voice while my ki courses through you. I’m going to teach you the basics of Kýma, what Sage Nochirasu calls ‘Chikara’_].”

Salmer (_ditto_): “[_Masala said I had it, but he wouldn’t unlock it_].”

Enki: “[_He tried to keep you out of Sencha and Kocha’s radar, so to speak. Those snake bitches are always on the lookout for prospective Kýma Adepts. Maybe he hoped they wouldn’t notice you if your faculties remained submerged_].”

Salmer: "[_Fat lot of good that did..._]."

Zumot: “[_Is there no way out of this place, Enki?_].”

Enki: “[_Think I’d still be cooped up in here if there were? Now please, quiet your minds. I’m using my energy to heal you and unlock as much of your latent power as possible. Trust me, it's for the best_].”

The next few minutes went by in near-absolute silence. Teacher and students became engrossed in the task at hand. 

“[_Do I know this guy from somewhere? Never met ‘im before, yet he feels… familiar. Wonder if Zumot..._].”

Before Salmer knew it, his mind was wandering all over the place. The time was eons ago. The place, Planet Dagon of Universe 12. Clad in his Hakaishin-in-training uniform, the Kualuan accompanied Martinu and Bonak on a mission.

“Lord Bonak? What are we gonna do today?”

“There’s more to being a God of Destruction than just beating up assholes and Hakai’ing monsters, Salmer. I’m also in charge of arranging exchanges between universes when they’re necessary.”

“We’re dealin’ with refugees, aren’t we? They from the Shithole Universe?”

“What have I told you about anti-universal slurs, Khaitan?”

“I’m not allowed to use ‘em. Ever.”

“Right. They ain’t from Universe 9. These ones’re from Universe 1.”

“Riesling’s universe? Why would they leave it? I thought it was the most advanced of all universes.”

“It is. Don’t mean it’s problem-free, though. There’s lots of people who lost everything during the war. House Bundaberg’s still putting down what’s left of House Reichsrat’s forces. Riesling and company don’t have the resources to resettle each and every single refugee out there, so me and him made a deal.”

“Lemme guess: we’re upholding our end of the bargain?” (_Bonak nods_). “I still don’t get why you wanted me to join you guys. Couldn’t even get through my daily training.”

“The other Agents are busy. ‘Sides, you’re gonna have to learn how to handle these situations if you’re gonna take over from me.”

(_Martinu smiles_). “Don’t worry, Salmer. You have been most diligent in your studies. Skipping one day won’t set you back at all. I agree with Lord Bonak. This outing should prove beneficial for you.”

“Fair enough.”

The Attendant, Hakaishin, and student reached the rendezvous point. A crowd of beings of various species, races, sizes, etc., chatted among themselves, yet hushed up at the sight of Universe 12’s Hakaishin.

(_Bonak clears throat, assumes solemn tone_). “Greetings, arrivants. I am God of Destruction Bonak XXXI, heir of Nolet, of House Terroir. Lord Riesling has already informed me about your circumstances, so I only need to speak with your leader. Whosoever they might be, let them come forth.”

The Asurendran wiped away a trickle of sweat from his forehead. Salmer drowned out a chuckle in the nick of time. Bonak had spent the last couple of nights going over the protocol _de rigueur _with Martinu and Ag’s assistance. Ciroc Musgrave was good at many things, but he clearly wasn’t cut out for public speaking. Not that the refugees seemed to mind. Their leader soon emerged, bowed before the deities.

“Greetings, Lord Bonak. I am Dr. Dassai Jodhpur. We are honoured to be in your august presence, and thank you for the kindness you have demonstrated towards us[2].”

The speaker was a male Doragonian, perhaps in the human equivalent of mid-to-late forties, which meant he must’ve been in his early three-hundreds or so. Clad in a somber dark grey kimono and _hakama_[3], Jodhpur nervously scratched his handlebar beard and goatee.

Salmer’s eyes wondered across the crowd as Bonak and Dassai compared notes. It wasn’t long before the future Lord Geene’s eyes met those of a young Doragonian female, likely in her early-hundreds, which in human years would place her somewhere in the late-twenties. Dressed in a cotton kimono, she wore her black hair coiled in a small bun. Her reddish-brown eyes seemed to gleam behind her wraparound glasses. 

Certain oddities caught the fish man's attention. The woman had the same eye color as Dassai Jodhpur, yet the latter differed in their overall shape. There were several other similarities the Kualuan noted, so he felt it safe to infer the female was somehow related to the good doctor, even if the presence of epicanthic eyes, webbed hands, fins at the top of the head, and other characteristics hinted at mixed parentage.

“Salmer.”

“Huh?”

The Kualuan came back to here and now. Bonak approached him as Martinu and Jodhpur separated the group by species and races, thus beginning the first phase of resettlement.

“See that girl over there? Dassai's daughter. Your partner for today. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Salmer bit his tongue before he asked any stupid questions, headed to the designated area. It wasn’t long before she approached him.

(_Awkward Salmer is…_). “Uh… hi. Looks like we're gonna be working together.”

(_Bows politely_). “Hello. My name is Tyree Jodhpur. What’s yours?[4]” 

“Uh…”

Much against his better judgement, Salmer stood there, gawking at the self-conscious female. A puzzled Martinu was about to intervene when the Kualuan at last snapped out of his stupor.

“Salmer Khaitan."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Khaitan-san."

"Same here. I, uh… let’s get started already. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

“Martinu gave me a few suggestions. Lord Bonak and Father approved. You don’t mind me taking the lead, do you?”

“N-No. Not at all.”

Thus, Tyree and Salmer split off their groups by species, sexes, ages, and other categories. Once the sorting was complete, the refugees were segregated into four subgroups. Half of the sick, elderly, and injured went with Bonak and Dr. Jodhpur, the other half going with Tyree and Martinu. That left Salmer to watch over most of the able-bodied males and females.

No biggie. The future Hakaishin had surmounted far more difficult tasks. Only three people in the group, a couple of Icejins and a Saiyan/human hybrid, were seasoned warriors, and their power level was nowhere near Ag’s, let alone Bonak’s or Salmer’s. If anyone among them became difficult… nothing a coupla Hakais couldn’t fix.

Fortunately, such a thing proved unnecessary. The few disagreements that occurred were settled without noise or bloodshed. Good thing the refugees didn’t lose their renowned U1 nobility to the war. Of course, having a trainee Hakaishin around helped, too.

Most of the work had been finished by sundown. Back at Bonak’s Temple, a tired Salmer changed into his training gi, wrapped his arms, hands, legs, and feet in clean bandages, and headed to the Training Hall at the fifth floor. Though the grounds were usually empty by late afternoon, the Kualuan soon found out he wasn’t alone.

“Tyree?”

The barefooted Doragonian nearly stumbled while performing a _kata_. Clad in the same training gi issued to all U12 Agents of Destruction, Tyree beamed a polite smile. The fish man’s mind got running. Martinu likely made some last-minute alterations, since such uniforms were usually worn by burly males. Centuries after the fact, Salmer nearly chuckled when he remembered the hassle Martinu and Ag went through to find clothes for him after his defection from Blood Sun. It took Tyree’s voice to snap the young male out of his distraction.

“Hello, Salmer. Lord Bonak insisted Father and I stay the night. I decided to do some light training before going to bed. Care to join me?”

Salmer perspired a bit. It took some doing, but the answer eventually reached his tongue all the way from the brain.

“Uh… s-sure.”

“I can leave if you’d rather be a—”

“No! I absolutely forbid it!”

The would-be Destroyer covered his maw too little, too late. Poor Salmer had half a mind to Hakai himself right there and then. He’d wanted to make his master’s guest feel at home. Instead, he’d blurted out one of Bonak’s thinly-veiled threats, as evinced by Tyree’s alarm… or was it puzzlement?

(_Mortified Salmer is…_). “Uh… let me rephrase that.” (_Clears throat, speaks all lofty and grandiose_). “Please do not trouble yourself on my account, Jodhpur-_dono_[5]. This hall is more than spacious enough for the both of us.”

Tyree blinked in confused silence. From the looks of it, the draconic female was also having one brain fart after another.

“Please, call me Tyree. You needn’t be so formal around me. While we’re on the subject, kindly refrain from using honorifics around Father.”

“Huh? Why? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

“Father strongly dislikes that part of his upbringing. He has told me as much.”

“Won’t he think I’m being disrespectful?”

“Not at all. Just address him as Dassai. He won’t mind.”

(_Salmer shakes his head_). “Lord Bonak will give me a tongue-lashing if I do that. He insists I address all beings with due respect.” (_Chuckles_). “He won’t even let me badmouth other universes, 'specially the ones that deserve it.”

(_Tyree chuckles_). “Like the Shithole Universe?”

Salmer nearly gasped. All but swimming in his own sweat, the future Lord Geene frantically looked around everywhere, praying he wouldn’t spot a disappointed (or annoyed?) Martinu and an irate Bonak, both heading his way as the furrow-browed Asurendran cracked his knuckles with an expression that said “you done fucked up now, boy.”

“D-Don’t say things like that! We could get in trouble if somebody hears us!”

(_Tyree nearly laughs_). “Don't worry. Ciroc told us that story.”

“WHO TOLD YOU WHAT!?”

Salmer Khaitan, formerly Oyzo Roku, sired in the Ninth Universe, pledged to the Twelfth, briefly turned white as fresh-fallen snow.

“He said you and him were born there and escaped. I’m glad you found your way here, Salmer.”

“Oh…” (_Salmer takes a deep breath_). “My bad. We should probably get on with our training. Shall w—?” 

Sudden noises disrupted Salmer’s remembrance. There he was, depowered, defeated, trapped with Zumot and the <strike>losers</strike> <strike>chumps</strike> <strike>putzes</strike> former deities of other universes. The cell door opened once again. Wielding weird-looking chains and shackles, Ganlu and two other beings entered, stood eerily close to Enki and his charges.

(_Solemn Ganlu is…_). “Summons from Lady Sencha. We are to bear ye to the cispontine chambers.”

Zumot and Salmer looked at one another in apprehension. Enki rose, helped them up.

“They’re going to take you to the Star Hall. It’s a place brimming with powerful magic. If I had to guess, Sencha and company are gonna perform an Awakening.”

“We were ordered to bring you as well, Enki.”

“M-Me?” (_Enki swallows hard_). “I see. Give me a minute to change into my uniform, Agent Favonius.”

Zumot al-Massaya furtively beheld the source of that baritone voice bordering on tenor. Favonius. Chifir uttered that name after the battle at the hall, when she addressed the ‘Exalted Ones.’

Favonius resembled a cross between a frilled lizard and an osprey/vulture of sorts, yet also bore canine-like ears and sparse tufts of yellowish fur in areas unoccupied by brown-white speckled feathers and/or grayish scales. Odder still, the Agent had not one, not two, but three reptilian tails, all bearing similar furry/scaled/feathery combinations. His head and countenance straddled the three aforementioned species in such a way, Favonius seemed to be all three at once, as his quadruple-hinged composite snout resembled a beak as easily as it played a muzzle. Though he sported the sinewy build of a seasoned warrior, an excess of varicose veins throughout the face, hands, perhaps elsewhere, gave this creature a sickly appearance. 

Lastly, the Agent wore a burgundy-tinted uniform, its front bearing an odd coat of arms: the ornate, intertwined visages of a wolf, dragon, hawk, shark, bear, and tiger, organized in a pyramidal pattern, its center occupied by a katana, makhaira, and falcata[6] interlocked to appear one and the same.

“Do you make a habit of gawking at people?”

A spooked Zumot turned his stare towards the source of that deep, somewhat raspy voice.

“I am Therian Agent 0457, codename Perun.” (_Points to Favonius_). “This is my partner, or should I say, fellow Agent.”

(_Serious Favonius is…_). “Therian Agent 0456, codename Favonius.”

In addition to the pair attached to each shoulder, Perun bore six other arms stemming from the upper, middle, and lower back, the latter encased within a plated indigo-colored tortoise shell. Rather than hands, the Agent had claws reminiscent of a mole. Further incongruities included conical spiked protrusions present all over the countenance, arms, presumably elsewhere concealed from view by a uniform similar to that of Favonius. 

Along with his shell, Perun bore a sizeable tail reminiscent of an Ankylosaurus or other such extinct critters. Though beaked, his head was modelled after a reptile’s rather than a bird’s. The Agent also featured a series of prominent sharp ridges on the vast forehead and the top of the head, several rows of serrated teeth, and a pair of upward-pointing sharp tusks on both sides of the lower jaw. 

Most strange of all, however, was his skin. Some parts sported purplish scales, yet others featured leathery, rough-looking black and white-furred areas. Though most of the forehead was bald, the middle and back of the head were covered by a predominantly white band of bristled hair, peppered with black at certain parts. Like Favonius, busy swollen veins all over Perun's body, particularly at the maw and forehead, lent the latter an ambiguous air of disease and feebleness.

“[_Perun and Favonius… those two seem… familiar. If I could just read their ki…_].”

“Ok, I’m ready.”

By then Enki had changed into a grey-hued uniform similar to that of the other Agents. The sigil on his shirt had the form of a turquoise blue-colored perfect circle surrounded by four blood-red singular spikes resembling arrowheads. Their pointy tips facing outward, the spikes were separated by three dark goldenrod single-edged oblong lotus petals, the circle itself ensconced within a larger version of the petal/arrowhead combination, virtually identical to the former in all, save the inverted coloring.

(_Curious Salmer is…_). “[_What’s with the outfit?_].” 

“It’s my Adept uniform. I’d gladly explain what each symbol means and all that, but we’re expected elsewhere. It’s not wise to keep Lady Sencha and Lady Kocha waiting.”

(_Matter-of-factly Perun is…_). “Indeed. If you would be so kind...”

Ganlu and the Agents chained Salmer and Zumot's ankles and wrists, then escorted them out of the cell. The dishonored Destroyers subtly looked around for chances to escape or possible hiding spots, yet none seemed viable, as their jailers cautiously guarded each flank, being especially careful to compensate for one another’s blindspots. Ganlu watched the front. Enki followed close by. Perun occupied the right. Hanging behind, Favonius kept vigil over the left. 

Zumot scowled. Even if the fallen deities somehow gave the Agents the slip, where would they go? Stripped of their divinity, powers, and fighting skills, they wouldn’t be able to make much of a last stand. Those damn bindings didn't help, either.

“[_Zumot? It’s Enki. Can you hear me?_].”

The Calamantian played it cool, showed little to no reaction upon hearing the Agent’s voice reverberate within his own mind. The son of Ksarak thanked all the gods and lucky stars. Cukatail’s training would see him and his godson through yet.

“[_Loud and clear. Won’t Ganlu and the rest catch us?_].”

“[_Favonius, Perun, and Ganlu aren't Kýma Adepts, so they’re not attuned to psychic resonance like I am. Long as you don’t give me away, we should be fine. Just so you know, we can only hear one another. Had to keep Salmer in the dark. My instincts told me you’d be the best choice for this. Plus, I’m making sure not to overexert myself. Kocha and Sencha have spies all over the place. Best to fly under the radar…_].”

“[_Yeah, I see what you mean. Any idea what Chifir and company have in store for us?_].”

“[_Remember that ‘Awakening’ thing I mentioned earlier? They’re going to unlock your latent_ _abilities_._ They did it to me when I first "joined" the Adepts, if you catch my drift. I won't lie to you: it’s gonna hurt like hell. I was hoping I could get at least half of the work done beforehand, but only managed to bring forth a fraction of your powers before Ganlu and the rest interrupted us. Anyhow, Kýma Adepts are divided into two categories: Servants of the Light and Servants of the Dark. Though both can use Kýma, the lessons they're taught are vastly different. Sencha, Kocha, and their flunkies make sure each Adept stays on their assigned path…_].”

“[_Light Adepts can’t learn Dark Adept techniques, and vice-versa? That sort of thing?_].”

“[_Yeah. Me and a few others are the exception to that rule, though. We’re Dual Adepts. We learn to use both the Light and Dark Kýma, to a certain point, that is…_].”

“[_Sencha won’t let you guys become too powerful, huh?_ _Makes sense, I guess. By the way, you know anything about Perun and Favonius?_].”

“[_Not much. Both were very powerful warriors before they wound up at the Void Realm. They haven’t been here long. They also weren’t born that way. Same as me_].” (_Sighs_). “[_Favonius was assigned to Lord Maofeng, Perun to Lord Biluo. Those two I just mentioned are high-ranking Numina. They and others like them answer to Chifir herself_].”

“[_What do you mean Favonius, Perun, and you weren’t ‘born that way’?_].”

Enki held his peace. Zumot recalled Lahpeth’s words back at the hall.

_We want no part in what Chifiru-sama and her party plot. Commanded by such deities, they have abducted warriors throughout the universes. Sencha-sama, Kocha-sama, and their group have summon’d magicks, minister’d physics to enthrall them into most foul bondage, one for which there is no remission_.

“[_Enki… those bastards mutated you, didn’t they?_].”

“[_They did the same to Perun, Favonius, way too many others to count. You and Salmer are next. I’m sorry, Zumot. I… I don’t have a choice_].”

“[_Bullshit_].”

Enki and Zumot nearly jumped in fear.

(_Stunned Zumot is…_). “[_Salmer!? Is that you!?_].”

“[_Sure as hell ain’t Zen-Oh…_].”

(_Astonished Enki is…_). “[_How much of our conversation did you hear?_].”

“[_Pretty much t__he whole thing_].” (_Frowns_). “[_Zumot… thank you for everything. I… I was a troublesome student. I was… arrogant, selfish, stupid, stubborn, disobedient, a pain in the ass. You, Bonak, me, we didn’t always see eye to eye... but I never forgot your lessons. I’m sorry, man. If I’d trained harder, listened to you more often, we wouldn’t be in this mess_].”

(_Zumot frowns_). “[_No, Salmer, I should be the one apologizing. I gave it my all to guide you, to help you like Ciroc helped me, but it wasn’t enough. You got hurt so many times, and I… I couldn’t be there when you needed me. I wasn’t a good teacher, yet you proved a worthy student. I am so proud of you. You remind me so much of Ciroc. He… he would be proud too. Of the male you have become, the things you’ve done for Universe 12, all the obstacles you've surmounted. Yes, you’ve failed and stumbled many times, but so have I. You and Ciroc are more than twice the man I ever was. Never forget that_].”

“[_Zumot…_].”

The group at last reached the rendezvous point, a fog-enshrouded area located near a bridge looming over a grand tower. The bridge itself was held by several columns, their bases too far down to see. Zumot became queasy just thinking about it. As per the Calamantian’s estimation, they were close to the top, with over a hundred floors beneath them. 

Ganlu opened a pair of steely doors. The Star Hall more than lived up to its name. Rather than floors, walls, or roofs, the room seemed to contain the whole infinity of space, littered as it was with shimmering planets, glimmering quasars, ever-speeding comets, etc.

Zumot felt increasingly ill at ease. The whole place seemed to be spinning. It took Ganlu hoisting him and Salmer over his massive shoulders and walking on ahead, with Enki, Perun, and Favonius close behind, to get the test subjects to where they needed to be.

Chifir and two other beings were waiting. The first was a Gorugonian, a tall female, from the looks of it. Her noseless countenance straddled the human and reptilian realms without fully embodying one or the other. Instead of hair, this person sported a series of thick fleshy tendrils, the sight of which reminded Zumot of a story he’d heard as a child. 

In the midst of a great war, a young priestess was raped by soldiers within the temple of the goddess she served. For some reason that eluded the Calamantian to this day, the goddess punished the victim rather than the perpetrators. She twisted the former into a squamous, monstrous perversion of herself, translated her once beautiful hair into living serpents, cursed her hitherto kind eyes to petrify any being who stared into them.

The first reptile woman’s flowing robes trailed behind as she pulled up a hood over her head. Her very being radiated peace, serenity, kindness, compassion… or so it seemed.

The former Lord Arak shuddered. Given a choice, he’d sooner let the mythological monster turn him into a reservoir of bird shit than spend another millisecond in the general vicinity of that female. There was something off about her. Zumot’s intuition roared at him to get away from the Gorugonian, to make sure him and Salmer forever remained beyond her reach.

“Hail, Lord Ganlu. I shall aid thee with the Calamantian. Leave the Kualuan to mine sister and the Agents[7].”

(_Ganlu bows_). “Aye, Lady Sencha.” (_Notices something_). “Where be mine brother?”

(_Stern Chifir is…_). “Lady Kangra and Lord Mulaban presently aid Lord Baimao with the other prospective Agents. Make ye haste. The Exalted Ones grow impatient.”

Having bowed before Chifir, the imperial lion deity ushered Zumot to the other side of the room. Salmer looked up. The tallest of the Numena headed his way. Her metallic steps resonated within the void as a nervous Enki and the other Agents knelt.

“Hail, Lady Kocha. What dost thou will?”

“BEAR SUBJECT TO DESIGNATED AREA. FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS FORTHCOMING[8]_._”

Salmer and the Agents sweated ice at that sight, that mechanical voice. Unlike Chifir and Sencha, Kocha’s skin was concealed in its entirety. Her visage covered by a featureless metal mask, the Numena was clad in dark grey robes strangely reminiscent of a medic’s outfit, save for the wide leathery sash where a seemingly oversized laser-sword hilt slumbered. The sigil on her shirt consisted of a pitch-black perfect circle flanked by seven three-pronged carmine spikes facing inward, kept apart by silvery triple lotus petals. Much like Enki’s outfit, such symbol was centered within a bigger, color-inverted version of itself.

The late Lord Geene kept his eyes fixed on the deity’s massive, six-fingered clawed hands. It didn’t take Mule to deduce Kocha was using prostheses. The latter were exceedingly large, even for that gargantuan frame. The arms, legs, feet, practically all of her, were much the same.

The mechanical goddess approached the Kualuan, extended her arms towards him. Salmer sweated copiously. In half a heartbeat, the fallen Hakaishin shoved Enki, Favonius, and Perun aside trying to escape, only for his weakened body to betray him yet again and cause him to fall, leaving the warrior once known as Geene to vainly flail and shrink from the Agents’ grip.

“[_DON’T TOUCH ME!_].”

(_Aghast Zumot is…_). “SALMER!”

Zumot sped toward his godson, but didn’t get very far. An unperturbed Ganlu caught the Calamantian, made sure not to injure or otherwise damage him.

“LET ME GO, YOU SONOVABITCH! LET ME GO!”

Something strange came over the Numen’s eyes. Agitated as he was, former God of Destruction Arak noticed… fear, doubt, hesitation?

“I… I…”

“Resume the operation.”

That was Chifir’s voice. The irritated dragon woman crossed her arms against the chest.

“Milady Chifir… I…”

“I shan’t admonish thee anew, Lord Ganlu.”

“B-But I…”

“Shùn-kun…”

Sencha’s body language bade the reluctant deity to turn his eyes towards her. Once the Numen complied, the robed Gorugonian gently waved her right hand in front of him. It wasn’t long before Zumot’s memory filled in the blanks. Masala had done much the same back at the library, yet something was different this time around.

(_Gentle yet stern…_). “Thou shalt fulfill thine orders.”

“Milady Sencha… prithee…”

The Numena repeated the motion and command a second time, then a third and fourth. The fifth was already underway by the time a mesmerized Ganlu replied.

“I shall fulfill mine orders.”

Turning deaf ears to Zumot’s screams, Sencha and Ganlu clasped him to a light blue metallic board. The Calamantian was facing a similar board while Kocha turned to a furious Salmer.

“COMPLIANCE REQUIRED. DEFIANCE PUNISHABLE.”

The Kualuan swiped at Kocha, whose hand calmly grabbed the offending limb, immobilized it with the utmost care not to damage bone or tissue, then lifted the struggling fish man into the air as if he weighed nothing.

“[_LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING BITCH! LET ME GO!_].”

“SUBJECT UNCOMPLIANT. PROTOCOL TWO-NINE-SEVEN INITIATED.”

Without further warning, the taller Gorugonian hurled the former Lord Geene a good nine or ten yards, folded her left arm and grip in an all too familiar gesture. The Kualuan levitated once again, desperately scratched at his throat, kicked and shoved in an effort to break free. Compared to this torture, Salmer’s previous experience with the Crushing Grip was downright pleasant. Enki was a student. Kocha was a master.

“SALMER! LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO, DAMN YOU!”

Her ears deaf to Zumot’s bile, Kocha’s remaining hand fired “electricity” at the fish man, much like Masala had done during his fight with Caron. Salmer yelled, writhed under a level of pain he hadn’t experienced in centuries. This went on for what seemed like forever, till Sencha decided enough was enough.

(_Translated from Greek_). “{Order rescinded. Implement Protocol Two-Five-Nine. Password: Όμορφη σκιά[9]}.”

“{PASSWORD ACCEPTED. PROTOCOL ABORTED}.”

Kocha's arms slumped. Thus cut off from the energy flow, Salmer fell to the ground while a serene Sencha approached her counterpart.

“Thou wouldst do well to oversee Agent Enki, beloved sister. I shall tend to thy patient.”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

Enki took the hint. While Kocha instructed him, Sencha knelt on Salmer’s side, gently touched his forehead as he bade him to relax. Much against his will, the tired, injured Kualuan sat stiffly still, his mind overflowing with long forgotten voices.

_Come here, Oyzo. You’ll keep me company tonight._

_Don’t be shy, little one. You won’t feel a thing._

_Stop squirming, brat! Look what you made me do!_

_Good thing you make a better assassin than an escort, boy._

_Disobedient little shit! I’ll teach you to attack my clients!_

_You know what the punishment for failure is, Oyzo._

_You’ll service two more shifts until further notice._

_Well done, Teal Storm! You’re among the best our people have to offer._

_You are ours, boy. _

_Now and forever._

“[_SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’LL MURDER YOU! I’LL FUCKING MURDER YOU!_].”

“Set thy heart at ease, Salmer Khaitan.” (_Waves her hand in front of Salmer_). “Thou shalt submit to our commands without hesitation or delay.”

“[_N-No… I… I… I won’t…_].”

(_Sencha repeats the motion_). “Thou shalt submit to our commands without hesitation or delay.”

(_Salmer weeps_). “[_N-No… I-I said no…_].”

“Thou shalt submit to our commands without hesitation or delay.”

“[_P-Please… stop…_].”

“Thou shalt submit to our commands without hesitation or delay.”

“[_I… I… I shall… submit to… your… commands… without… hesitation… or… delay…_].”

As soon as Salmer honored his promise, Favonius and Perun strapped him to the metallic slab. The fish man now faced the weeping Zumot on the opposite side. 

An unamused Chifir ordered the sisters to begin. Perun, Favonius, and Ganlu headed to the dragoness' side. 

Following Kocha’s instructions, Enki stood in the middle of the room, facing Salmer to the left and Zumot to the right. Swallowing hard, the Adept summoned his powers while reciting an incantation he knew by heart.

(_Translated from Greek_). “{Surge of the Gods, we thine Adepts call out to thee. Rouse these servants from their slumber. Onto them bestow thy breath, that they might walk the Path of Radiance, or pledge themselves to the Way of Shadows.}.”

The frowning Agent turned to the late Lord Arak. With a heavy sigh, Enki bade the Light to manifest.

“{Aspect of Light, Bringer of Joy, Bearer of Wisdom, Gatekeeper of Truth, Guardian of Beauty and Goodness, heed mine entreaty. Take this Initiate as thine own. Sever him from all ties, rid him of all claims upon others, all which others hold upon him. Cleanse him of his name, his sire, his brethren, his kindred, that he may be wholly thine’s}.”

Enki now faced the former Lord Geene. The Adept summoned forth the Dark.

“{Aspect of Dark, Herald of Power, Speaker of Forgotten Knowledge, Punishment of Defilers, Bearer of Abjection, Discerner of Foul and Fair, guide thee mine hand. Take this Neophyte for thyself. Open his eyes that he might see the unworthy for what they are. Remind him of the evil he has done unto others, the evil others have done unto him. Strip from him the poison of illusion, learn unto him the death of all hope, that he may come out of bondage once and for all}.”

His very frame cracking with light and dark ki, the trembling Enki extended his right hand towards Zumot, making sure not to face him or Salmer.

“{_There is no fear; there is assurance. There is no desire; there is abstention. There is no anger; there is compassion. There is no hatred; there is forbearance. There is no folly; there is foresight. There is no abeyance; there is motion. There is no weakness; there is strength. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no mismeasure; there is balance. There is no deceit; there is truth. There is no self; there are others. There is no I; there is thou. There is no death; there is life. There is no emptiness; there is plenitude. There is no vacuity; there is depth. There is no void; there is… Kýma_}[10].”

As soon as Enki finished, shimmering amber energy shot out of his right hand, struck Zumot straight in the stomach. The screaming Calamantian shone and smoldered while his very flesh crackled, smoked, and glowed. At that moment, the Agent extended his left hand toward a horrified Salmer. The former's voice noticeably deepened as he uttered the next oath.

“{There is no peace. There is only strife. Strife begets fear; fear begets tribulation; tribulation begets hatred; hatred begets suffering; suffering begets might; might begets right; right begets order; order begets triumph; triumph begets deliverance. Kýma shall show thee the way. Kýma _is_ the way!}[11].”

Just like that, Enki’s other hand expelled a wave of black energy which pounced on Salmer, his yelling comingling with Zumot’s. After what seemed like forever and a day, the ki flows slowly waned, then ceased altogether. An exhausted, teary-eyed Enki collapsed on his knees, covered his visage in shame.

While Zumot lost consciousness, Salmer still lingered between awareness and oblivion. Sencha took a look. His kimono reduced to ash from the waist up, his charred body crackling with electricity, the Kualuan’s half-shut eyes shone a bright yellow. Success.

Meanwhile, Kocha examined the warrior once known as Arak. Also naked from the waist up, the Calamantian’s severely burnt frame pulsed with a strange radiance. Success.

The dragon deity turned to Ganlu, Perun and Favonius. Their countenances conveyed little emotion as they were given new orders.

“Proceed with the next phase.”

Once Sencha made sure all involved parties received the correct mutagen, the imperial lion god headed to where Salmer convalesced while Favonius took to Zumot’s resting place and Perun helped Enki get back up.

“Come this way. You must rest, Agent.”

“What... What have I... what have I done…?”

“Your duty… I think…”

As the latter Agents quit the Star Hall, Favonius carefully administered the mutagen prepped for Zumot. Ganlu did the same to Salmer. Once the procedure was complete, Sencha and Kocha examined the initiates.

(_Serene Sencha is…_). “The process is already underway. (_To Favonius and Ganlu_). “Take the Initiates to their enclosures. Lords Baimao and Maofeng have already been informed. They shall learn ye aught else is to be done.”

The Numen and Agent bowed, then left. Unable to keep his eyes open, Salmer Khaitan finally lost consciousness.

“[_Bok… Ty… for… forgive… m…_].”

* * *

[1] Κύμα των Θεών / Kýma ton Theón (kee-mah-ton-teh-ohn, Greek) = Surge of the Gods (Source: Google Translate). Possible V.A.’s: Lucien Dodge (Felix Hugo Fraldarius, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_, but with a more reptile/aquatic-like reverb, similar to Reagan Murdock’s voice for Geene in the _Dragon Ball Super_ English dub), Jason Marsden (Chase Young, _Xiaolin Showdown_, same as before), Parry Shen (Takeda Takahashi, _Mortal Kombat X_. Slightly deeper pitch. Otherwise, lather, rinse, repeat).

[2] “Das-sai-jodh-poor.” Possible V.A.’s: Richard Epcar (Raiden, _Mortal Kombat 11_, but with a more reptile-like intonation), Paul St. Peter (Ionius von Hresvelg IX, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_. Again, reptilian intonation), David Gazzana (Batman / Bruce Wayne, _Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe_, albeit somewhat older. Reptilian intonation is a must).

[3] “Hah-kah-mah.” From the Japanese 袴 = Traditional Japanese trousers worn over kimonos (Source: Wikipedia).

[4] “Tie-ree.” Possible V.A.’s: Jackie Powers (Mia Ausa, _Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete_, but with a slightly older, somewhat deeper, more reptilian pitch), Allegra Clark (Dorothea Arnault, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_, same as before), Kari Wahlgren (Kitana, _Mortal Kombat 11_, as before), Hedy Burress (Yuna, _Final Fantasy X_, lather, rinse, repeat).

[5] 殿, との / Tono, dono = Japanese honorific, analogous to “milord,” “monseigneur,” and similar titles, just shy of “-sama” in terms of formality (Source: Wikipedia).

[6] Makhaira / μάχαιρα = Ancient Greek single-edged large fighting knife or sword.

Falcata = Single-edged fighting sword from pre-Roman Iberia (Source: Wikipedia).

[7] Possible V.A.’s: Jessica Gee-George (Cornelia Arnim, _Fire Emblem: Three Houses_, albeit with a slightly lower speaking pace and a somewhat deeper pitch), Lorraine Toussaint (Shadow Weaver / Light Spinner, _She-Ra and the Princesses of Power_, see above), Donna Rawlins (Constance d’Albaret, _Castlevania: The Lecarde Chronicles 2_, minus the demonic reverb).

[8] Possible V.A.’s: Mary Elizabeth McGlynn (Medusa, _Castlevania: Lament of Innocence_, albeit with more of a mechanical reverb and slightly deeper pitch, similar to James Earl Jones’ Darth Vader), Jennifer Hale (Kronika, _Mortal Kombat 11_, albeit with a deeper, emotionless pitch), Whitney “RaeLynn Jay” Jones (Jeanne de Servigny, _Castlevania: The Lecarde Chronicles 2_, see above).

[9] Greek: Ómorfi skiá (oh-mor-fee ehs-kee-ah) = Beauteous Shadow (Source: Google Translate).

[10] Loosely modeled after the Jedi Creed.

[11] Loosely modeled after the Sith Code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of visual aid on what Enki's face should look like. Not like anyone's gonna make fanart of this thing, but still... enjoy your nightmare fuel, folks.
> 
> Potoo Facts - https://critterfacts.com/critterfacts-archive/aviary/critter-of-the-week-19-common-potoo.
> 
> Common Potoo (Wikipedia) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_potoo
> 
> Beware the Haunting Cries of the Great Potoo Bird - https://www.thingsguyana.com/beware-the-haunting-cries-of-the-great-potoo-bird.
> 
> Great Potoo (Wikipedia) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_potoo
> 
> Wild Facts About The Potoo That Prove They’re One Of The Strangest Creatures On The Planet - https://honesttopaws.com/s/great-potoo-bird?as=799&asv=1&bdk=0


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